


Some Things Are Hard To Tell

by PumpkinLily



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Freddie is in a complicated situation, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mary doesn't have a clue, Questioning, Roger is in love, Slow Burn, froger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinLily/pseuds/PumpkinLily
Summary: The song goes on, and Roger is still breathless. He dearly hopes that nothing will come to disturb this precious moment. Just the two of them: Freddie, a talented and magnificent person on his way to become a legend, and him, a young man fortunate enough to be his bandmate and best friend.It’s a good thing Freddie is very concentrated on his song, and that they are alone, because anyone who would have taken a look at Roger could have seen the love flowing through his fond smile and his blue eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has been waaaaay too long since I've posted anything on this site. Anyway, now that I finally graduated from art and design school, I'll only have to juggle between writing/reading and my summer job.
> 
> Re-Anyway, Froger still owns my heart, and I still had some things I wanted to write about these two, notably about "Rockfield Farm time". This place seems like a great place to make love stories bloom. On another note, I'm trying to write now using present instead of preterite, and there may be some errors in the times used (English's not my first language). 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this not long enough start of a story.

He was supposed not to make any noises, but the old parquet floor decided to be uncooperative and creak, giving away his presence with an awfully loud sound. And of course, at the exact moment Freddie stopped playing piano. So much for trying to stay undetected.

Before he could do anything, the singer turned in his direction, his graceful hands still on the keys. His slight frown turned into a smile when he realised his friend was the source of the parquet’s creaking. 

“Hey, Freddie.” Roger smiled awkwardly.

“Hey Rog. C’mon darling, don’t stay there!” He shifted to the left, leaving enough space on the piano seat for another person. “I don’t bite, promise.”

“...You seem so focused, I don’t want to disturb you...”

“Nonsense darling. I’ve been alone for some time now, I wouldn’t mind some company.”

After a short hesitation, Roger finally decided to leave the hallway, and went to sit next to his friend. That piano seat is comfy, but less large that what he expected. If they were a bit bulkier, their thighs would touch. Not that Roger would have a problem with that. 

“Anything in particular you wanted to ask me?” Freddie stretched his fingers. “Or you couldn’t be deprived of my presence for any longer?” He added with a playful smile.

Actually, Roger was sent by Brian and John to ask him if he wanted to play Scrabble with them. But after hearing the sound of a beautiful unknown melody, luring him to get closer like a mermaid voice, the game faded out of the blonde's mind. He'd rather continue to be enchanted by Freddie’s marvelous piano skills.

“...Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you.” It wasn’t that much of a lie, considering Freddie had been alone playing piano for a few hours now. “...Is that a new song?”

“Yeah. It’s not finished, but… I’ve thought about putting it on our new album.” There was a short moment of silence. “I mean, if you guys are OK with it.” 

“I vote yes.” Roger told immediately.

Freddie looked at him, pleasantly surprised. “...But you have barely listened to it!”

“True, but you didn't laugh at my misunderstood masterpiece.” Roger showed a small cheeky grin. “The least I can do in return is support you and your future wonderful song.”

A light shade of red took over Freddie’s cheeks, as a small thankful smile appeared on his face. 

“…How’s it called?”

“...Love Of My Life.” And with those words, Freddie started to play.

Roger watcheed his friend’s fingers gracefully dance along the keys, giving birth to a slow and appeasing melody. His deep brown eyes were focused on the keyboard, unaware of the fascinated way his friend is looking at him. Freddie didn't play music, he immersed himself in it, and it was a magic experience.

_Love of my life, you’ve hurt me..._

When Freddie started to sing, Roger was transported elsewhere. Of course he always gave himself at a hundred percent when he played music, but the way the singer poured his soul in his songs, in music itself, was unique. He will never, never be tired of hearing his soft and melodic voice, and he could even simply recite the phone book, he would be attentive until the very end. Aside from the concerts in front of a crowd, it was during these much more intimate moments that it was obvious Freddie was born to play and create music. He was a real gift to the world.

_Love of my life, don’t leave me…_

The song went on, and Roger was still breathless. He dearly hoped that nothing would come to disturb this precious moment. Just the two of them: Freddie, a talented and magnificent person on his way to become a legend, and him, a young man fortunate enough to be his bandmate and best friend. 

It was a good thing Freddie was very concentrated on his song, and that they were alone, because anyone who would have taken a look at Roger could have seen the love flowing through his fond smile and his blue eyes. 

After a moment that seemed way too short, the singer stopped playing. “...So, how did you find it?” 

“...It’s beautiful Freddie.” Roger assured in a heartfelt tone. “I love it. No doubts Brian and Deaky will love it too.”

Freddie responded by showing a proud and content smile that made the drummer melt, before he started playing a few notes on the piano.

This song was filled with care and passion, like any other song the singer wrote. Beautiful, romantic yet sad. Roger wondered how many people will dedicate it to their loved ones when it will become a hit. 

And then Mary came to his mind.

His smile dropped. He was pretty sure people would think the song is about her. It would make sense, after all, she was Freddie’s girlfriend, a very dear and important person to him.

But it could simply be a song that showed a part of the complex matters of love - it wouldn't be the first time Freddie tackled the subject in a song. His heart hoped, at least. Well, the only way to know was to ask.

“...Did you write it for Mary?" 

Freddie stopped playing, his fingers lingering on the keys as their sound gets more and more distant until it disappears. “...I just made it up. It isn’t dedicated to anyone.” His tone was soft, yet steady. 

“...Okay.” Knowing this made him feel a bit better, though it didn't erase the fact she was still his girlfriend.

“Anyway, I’ve thought about possible musical accompaniment for the song.” Freddie’s brown eyes lightened up. “Just before the beginning of the first verse, I can hear some harp.” He showed him the music sheets, where a few notes are scribbled. “Something light. I think it could complete the piano quite nicely.”

Roger nodded positively to this great idea. Of course, a harp. A perfect instrument to magnify a slow and romantic song. Like the short one sang by Duchess to O’Malley in the Aristocats. Even though he supposed the harp was most probably going to played by Brian, he couldn't help but imagine the scene. Freddie carefully playing the instrument, looking at him in the most charming way, showing him his sweetest smile, while his rich and sublime voice would softly sing romantic words to him and only him. If only... 

“-And then,” Freddie suddenly noticed his friend’s dreamy eyes. “...Rog, are you listening?”

He snapped out of his fantasy, and blinked a few times before blushing slightly. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

“Pay more attention darling. How are you going to help me magnify this song otherwise?” 

The smile his friend had was warm and affectionate. Precious and needing to be cherished, like himself. Roger hoped he would always be here to see him smile. 

 

**_***_**

 

Ridge Farm was certainly a particular place for a rock band to rehearse. It was isolated, lost in the middle of the Surrey countryside, stuck between fields and cows. A foot outside, and you'd be almost instantly welcomed with the fragment of manure. A few steps, and puddles of muddy water would be there to threaten the lower part of your pants. Though the biggest danger may be the chicken. They looked dumb and harmless, but it was better not make them mad. 

Despite these inconveniences, Roger found this place to be likable. This place, though the interior decoration was terribly old-fashioned, was comfortable, spacious – aside from John’s tiny room, but he got used to it - pleasantly heated up. Everything their respective dingy flats weren't. The four of them living in the same home like a family was pleasant, though four hot-headed spirits like them had a harder time constantly living in each other's shoes sometimes. In short, it was a blessing and a curse. Especially with Freddie. 

A sigh escaped his lips. He took a cigarette and lighted it, before his eyes wandered over the funnily shaped clouds for a few seconds. No smoking inside the house - no matter how much he insisted he'd open a window, Brian refused - so he had to go outside, even if it meant facing England renowned bad weather. But having a moment for himself in the fresh air, after hours of practicing and re-playing the same song part twenty times was welcomed. Freddie’s insistence of wanting every note, every beat to be perfect for each of their songs was tiring. And they wouldn’t have it any other way; they all had this love and dedication to music. Plus the singer’s glowing expression at the end, after all their efforts and patience, was worth it.

Especially his smile. To be honest, hearing him being finally satisfied was really enjoyable, but damn, his smile. And his silky long black hair, his neatly sculpted face and cheekbones, his beautiful deep brown eyes-

Roger, smitten? Absolutely.

There was something mesmerising and even hypnotic about Freddie – Mona Lisa couldn't hold a candle to him. His quirky clothes, his god-like voice, or even his way of possessing the stage makes him one of a kind. Of course, Freddie wasn't only a very talented singer, pianist and frontman. Outside the stage, he was a much calmer, softer, but still as passionate and even more affectionate person. Freddie Mercury, his best friend, his bandmate, and among the many female “encounters” he had have, the first and only man he ever fell for.

Roger never told it to anyone. Nobody knew. Or maybe he wasn't as discreet as he thought he was, and John and Brian had noticed the way he gazed at his friend when no one was supposedly looking. Given how clever and perceptive they could be...

...Honestly, his friends could know, and it wouldn't be the end of the world. If there were two people who wouldn't give a shit about the fact he was in love with a man, it would be them.

Roger wasn't scared of their potential reaction. But confessing his feelings to Freddie...

His eyes laid on the cigarette, and he thought about the last time he shared a smoke with the singer here. They had practised John's sickeningly sweet song, _You’re My Best Friend_ , and Freddie was talking about... Well he didn't really listen. What song they would practice the next day, maybe. What he remembered was how he couldn’t help but keep looking at his lips, his hand holding his own cigarette in a rather elegant way. Both looked soft and kissable.

They were alone, and Freddie was in a good mood. If he had been braver that day, he could have told him.

Roger sighed once again. He'd kept thinking, it'd be easier to tell him, in this privileged environment away from Mary and the rest of London. And he had tried, once. In the end, fear prevented him from going further than a mere hesitant “I...”. The fear of rejection. The fear of ruining their friendship. The fear of Freddie not accepting his feelings. The fear of not being taken seriously.

These fears didn't disappear in the matter of a few days. But he was more and more conscious time was running against him. They were only here to rehearse for _A Night At The Opera_ – their new ablum, of which they'd found the title during a Marx Brothers' films marathon a few nights ago - and they'd been here for three weeks already. Once they’d be back in the city, Freddie would go back to Mary. His girlfriend. His fiancee. 

He feared that if he didn't muster his courage and tell him now, he’d progressively stifle his feelings and spend the rest of his life with regrets and this secret. And that was the last thing he wanted.

He huffed one last time before putting out his cigarette. A drop of water fell on his hand, and he quickly looked up to see the threatening color of the clouds. No doubt he was going to be caught in a downpour if he didn’t rush. His thoughts would have to wait for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger absolutely hates green beans. But he absolutely loves Freddie.

As he slammed the front door, the recognisable odor of green beans came immediately to Roger. His pretty face transformed into a grimace. He could already hear Brian talk like a concerned mother about the many benefits of eating green beans, which could not counter the fact that, although he wasn’t a picky eater, he absolutely hated green beans and it had been only a few years since he stopped saying they should be made illegal. But then, if he was to complain about the dreaded veggies, the chef would only tell he had to cook dinner himself. And given his poor cooking skills, that was not happening.

He heard the front door being slammed again, and a heavy breathing followed.

“Looks like at least one of us got lucky.” Freddie noted, drenched from head to toes.

Roger gasped when he notices his friend’s look. “Damn. You must be freezing. I’ll bring you a towel.”

“Thanks Rog, but don’t bother, I’ll have to change completely. Even my briefs took on water.” Despite the unwanted shower, Freddie was beaming. “But it was a small price to pay to see Charlotte.” 

Right. Charlotte was the farm cat he found near the barn, maybe only two minutes after they arrived here. With her grey soft fur and her cute meows, it was love at first sight. Freddie was heartbroken he couldn't bring her home, but at least he had a cat to pet and love since his babies Tom and Jerry weren't here.

Roger rolled his eyes, but smiled at his friend’s reaction. "One day, cats will be the death of you." 

Freddie looked enchanted. "I'm fine with that." 

“Hey g-Freddie, you’re drenched!” Brian exclaims, as he exited the kitchen, on his way to set the table. 

His brown eyes slowly lower on his clothes. “Oh, yeah, right, I’ll go change. Actually, I’ll take a quick shower.” And with these words, he leaves for the bathroom.

The guitarist gets closer. “What happened?”

“Fred found a cat near the barn.” Roger explains while he takes off his shoes.

“Ah, I get it.” He nods in understand. He wouldn’t hesitate to brave the elements for an animal too.

They start to set the table, joined by John, who was helping Brian with the cooking. A short moment after they finished setting the cutlery, Freddie emerges in the dining room, his hair’s volume and magnificence greatly increased by the drying, wearing one of his favorite pyjamas, the red satin ones. Also known as the ones in which Freddie looks divine, at least in Roger’s opinion – even though Freddie could wear a sack of potatoes as clothes and still be looking divine. He tries not to stare at him, but it’s a real challenge. When Brian brings over the dishes, some chicken and the dreaded green beans, Roger inevitably groans about it, making Freddie smile.

“Come on Rog, you should enjoy Bri’s wonderful cooking while you can.” Freddie says before gobbling a part of the chicken with appetite.

“Green beans and delicious cooking don’t belong in the same sentence.” Roger claims, looking at the green contents of the saucepan with distinct disgust.

Brian sighs. “What did you do when you had to eat green beans when you were a child?”

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to eat them, otherwise I wouldn’t get dessert. That didn’t mean it was any less horrible.” The drummer puts back the saucepan’s lid before he can have nightmares of the dreaded beans. 

He rolls his eyes. “So, I suppose you wouldn’t impose this “horrible experience” to your future children?”

“...Probably not.” 

To tell the truth, Roger couldn’t think about children. Even before he fell for Freddie, he couldn’t think about settling down with a woman.

When Brian then asks the same question to Freddie, Roger watches his friend’s smile drop. He knows that Freddie doesn’t want children. Human children, at least. But cats and kittens, as cute and fluffy as they may be, probably wouldn’t suit Mary.

“...I don’t know.” He eventually says, obviously looking uncomfortable.

“And what about you?” Roger looks at Brian, wanting to shift the attention off the singer. “I bet your poor kids will eat veggies for every meal. Even for snacks, they will only have carrots sticks and tomato juice.”

Brian frowns. “Well, at least I’d encourage my children to eat healthy and try food, like the kind of beans that wouldn’t kill me if I stopped acting like a stubborn brat and would actually eat them.”

John continues eating, watches the drummer frowning, smiles before this start of a foolish argument. Before it can become one though, Freddie intervenes and asks the two to simply enjoy what they have in their plates. They both leave it there, as they are reasonable people, but while Brian quickly finishes his vegetables, Roger only eats the chicken.

A few minutes later, all the plates are empty, except one where the green beans had been left untouched, nourishing no one but maybe the bin later. Brian and John get up to put their plates in the kitchen sink and bring the dessert, while Freddie stays in the dining room, glancing at Roger, who is scraping a chicken bone to get the rest of the meat on it.

“...Rog, can’t you eat these poor green beans? I can almost hear them saying “Eat us Roger, please!”.” Freddie takes a high-pitched tone to voice the vegetables. “It would be an honour to end up in your stomach!”

The blonde snorts, before going back to pouting. “Do I have to?”

“Please, Roggie.” Freddie asks in a gentle voice. “For me.”

He shows the drummer his most encouraging smile. Under the pressure of this smile and his beautiful brown eyes, Roger feels his heart beat faster, and silently curses his friend before reluctantly taking a bite out of the dreaded beans. The taste is exactly like the last time he ate some, absolutely horrible, and the fact that they are half-cold now doesn’t make it easier. But he is eating them for Freddie. Ah, the things you do sometimes when you’re in love.

Seeing his friend finally eating the vegetables, Freddie wears a satisfied expression. When Roger turns towards him to show his displeasure, his smile turns into an amused but proud grin. Then, in the heat of the moment, he gets closer and put a kiss on his friend’s temple. Roger somehow chokes on the beans.

“Oh fuck! Sorry!” The singer, looking instantly apologetic, quickly pours water in the nearest glass. “I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay...” Roger assures in a low voice, before taking the glass and slowly starting to drink.

It takes him a few seconds to process what happened. His temple was covered by some of his hair, but he felt very well the contact of Freddie’s lips on his skin. He feels his cheeks burning, not knowing if he’s blushing because of the kiss in itself or because of the embarrassing way he reacted to it. Though this kiss definitely took him by surprise, he knows it was just his friend’s way of showing affection. Still, Freddie kissed him, even if was just on the temple. Enduring green beans was worth it.

When Brian and John come back from the kitchen, some finely decorated dessert plates and the actual dessert, a homemade apple pie, in hands, they find Freddie sitting a bit closer to Roger, looking at him with sorry eyes. The blonde was breathing slowly, his cheeks covered by a layer of red. His blue eyes go to their two friends, who are sending them questioning looks. 

“...I choked on the beans.” He explains, omitting what caused him to choke on them. “You see Brian, eating green beans could have actually killed me.” 

John chuckles, while Brian rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you even tried eating them.”

“Well… I asked him to.” Freddie confesses.

“Oh. You’re lucky.” Brian says while setting the dessert plates. “When I’m the one who asks him to try eating green beans, I can get lost.”

John puts the pie on the tablemat. “That’s because you don’t have the magical little something that Freddie has.” 

Once the pie has been cut it in six and they all have a slice in their plates, Roger wastes no time gobbling it like he was starving and declares that THIS is wonderful cooking. Brian thanks him, before asking him to close his mouth as he was sending crumbs everywhere. The four savour the pie in near silence, aside from some chewing noises, the clinking of the spoons against the plates and the regular tick-tock of the old clock on the sideboard. Roger, after eating, takes a quick look at his bandmates: Brian has eaten half of his slice while Freddie and John are eyeing intensely the pie, probably thinking about eating the last two parts. Usually, he would be one to fight for one of the last slices of a cake or a pie, but tonight, he indicates that they can finish the pie, and they waste no time enjoying it.

“Ah, I’m gonna miss your cooking darling.” Freddie sighs after finishing his second slice. “It’s way too delicious.”

Roger gathers his thoughts. “...I’m gonna miss our meals together. I know we usually eat our lunches together when we’re at the studio, but… it’s not the same. This place is… special.” 

John takes a small time to chew before approving. “True, we’ll always remember that chicken which tried to peck you to death.”

He tries not to wince at that memory. “Well that was my fault. I shouldn’t have angered it in the first place. What I mean is that it feels nice not to eat breakfasts and dinners alone in silence. I like our talks together during these moments, even if we don’t always agree on everything.” 

Brian and John nod in agreement. There’s nothing like a good meal in good company, that’s why they always appreciate eating together after hours of hard work, even if arguments occur sometimes. It’s just a part of the deal. Freddie, as for him, seems to be thinking about something, before turning towards the blonde.

“...Are you feeling lonely, Rog?” He asks gently.

Roger doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes looking away before going back to his friend. “No, it’s just… Well, sometimes I would love to… have someone to talk to during breakfasts or dinners.” 

He never really cared about this since he got his own flat. It’s not like he ever invited any of the many girls who ever got in his bed to take the breakfast with him. What he says is actually masking what he doesn’t dare to say to his friend. He still misses spending some time alone with Freddie, like in their old dingy flat. He would love to share a breakfast, lunch or any meal with him again, just the two of them, talking and laughing. 

Actually, there was many things he would love to share with him. A home, be it a small cosy flat or a big house with a huge garden like his friend said he would buy once they would be loaded. A bed, to spend there moments of pleasure but also tenderness. And, eventually, maybe a pair of wedding rings, for the man of his life. Though for a start, a simple kiss on the lips would make him the happiest.

He notices his friends looking attentively at him. His cheeks starts to burn. He feels like he has laid himself bare enough, and he really doesn’t want them pushing him further on the subject of wishing for someone.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say that despite a lot of things, I like this place.” 

“...Really? Even if it’s far away from bars and girls?” Brian asks while raising a brow.

“I don’t necessarily need bars or girls to enjoy a place, you know.” The blonde assures with mild annoyance.

Brian and Freddie are looking at each other, considering in silence their friend’s unexpected answer, while John glances at him, unreadable as always. Roger understands them being perplexed; since they know him, his love for drinks and girls has been very easily noticeable. He still loved drinks though. As for girls… It was different now that Freddie had taken a more special place in his mind and heart.

But he could still get wasted here though. He spotted several good drinks in the dining room’s cabinet – and he already thought about nicking the vodka. Besides, he doesn’t really feel the need or envy to go find some girls to spicy up his nights anymore. His bandmates would probably never believe him if he ever said that out loud.

The phone’s loud ringing destroys the silence. Brian, who is the closest, picks it up. Roger hears him greet Mary, and quickly, Freddie gets up and goes next to the guitarist, waiting to take the phone with visible impatience, a radiant look on his face. Roger feels a pang to his heart. Brian hands him the phone.

“Hi Mary, could you put Tom and Jerry on the line please?” He asks with an excited voice.

Oh. Of course. Freddie always loves to have his feline babies on the phone when he’s away, to express how much he misses them or to hear their purring, even before talking to his actual girlfriend. Seeing him tell sweet words to his cats and not Mary make Brian and John smile with amusement. Roger smiles too, but not for the same reasons. They then ask him to help them clean the table since Freddie is occupied, and he gather the cutlery almost absent-mindedly, focusing his attention on his friend’s phone call rather than on holding properly the porcelain plates he has in hands. He hears nothing noticeable except for a “Yeah, we’ll see when I’ll come back”. Roger wonders what could he be talking about.

“Roger! Are you going to give me the plates or not?” Brian’s impatient voice cuts him in his thoughts.

He rushes in the kitchen, and finds Brian standing in front of the sink, filled with water and washing liquid, a slight frown on his face and pink rubber gloves on his hands. Next to him, John is finishing wiping a glass. He finally gives him the plates, and the guitarist starts to scrub them after a quick “thank you”, aside from the one which still contains the green beans he didn’t eat.

“Since you’re not doing anything, could you find a tupperware? I’m not going to let this go to the bin.”

Roger starts rummaging through the cupboard, before finding a small box. “What were you expecting? You know I absolutely loathe green beans.” 

“Well you know Rog, tastes can change through years.” John says before putting away the glass in the designated cupboard. “Though it seems green beans are forever destined to be on your black list.”

He couldn’t agree more. Even simply decanting the green beans in the tupperware makes him grimace. He’s all too happy to give it to the bassist, who puts it the fridge, away from his eyes. 

“You know if Freddie’s still one the phone?”

Roger takes a second to check. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’d like to call Veronica.” John explains with a smile. “See how Robert and her are doing.”

Roger is still amazed that despite John being the youngest and most quiet among them, he’s the first of them to be married, and more recently, he’s even become the proud father of a little boy. Veronica and him makes an adorable couple, he’s always seen him so happy and caring whenever she was around at the studio. They are so fond of each other, and he can feel such a quiet stability around these two that he can’t imagine them not growing old together. A polar opposite of his own relationships. For years, it has been either night shags, or flings that would end after a week. And he would be perfectly satisfied. He never really envied John’s type of relationship with someone.

Not until Freddie invaded his heart and swept away this routine and all the desire he had for the female sex.

“Roger? Roger!” This time, it’s John’s voice which cuts him in his thoughts and makes him look at them.

“Oh finally, your ears decided to work.” Brian comments. “What were you thinking about that prevented you from hearing us? A girl?”

Roger grunts. “What is it with you and girls?!” He replies in annoyance. “I know I’m a fucking chick magnet but that doesn’t mean I think about girls all the time, you know?!” 

He raises his hands in defense, surprised by his tone. “Okay, okay, it’s just-”

“Just what?!” Roger cuts him aggressively.

“I thought, with what you said earlier about wanting to have someone to talk to, that maybe you...” He thinks to find the right words. “…Look, Rog, I’ve seen you flirt around with girls for years. I know you have had many partners; when you went somewhere, you always wanted to know if there were pretty girls around. And I think that you may be tired of this. Now you want to have a relationship with someone that would stay.”

Roger feels cornered. Brian and John’s look put even more pressure on him. He can’t say his friend is wrong for thinking that. But it’s only a part of a truth that he’s not ready to confess, at least not to them. So he tells that it’s complicated and doesn’t want to talk about it. Brian and John glance at each other, before the guitarist replies with a mere “okay”. Freddie emerges in the kitchen. At the same time, John leaves, happy to be able to call his wife now that he hung up. Brian does too, a sponge and a duster in hand, when he remembers that the dining room’s table hasn’t been cleaned.

Freddie gets close to him, leans against the kitchen table, smiling. Roger feels his heart beat faster again.

“Hey Rog. Everything’s fine?”

“Oh, y-yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Yeah.” That sounds very convincing. ”...Why?”

Freddie stays silent, and gets even closer, not even a step away from him. Before Roger can do anything, he lays the back of his hand against his forehead, showing a soft and concerned look. Being this close to him really doesn’t help with the blushing.

“I-I’m not sick Fred, it’s just...” He decides to move away from him before he becomes a tomato.

“Just what?” He still wears this soft and concerned look, and waits for an answer that doesn’t come. “...Rog, is something bothering you?”

They are alone, again. Freddie is ready to listen to anything he has to say. He has to tell him now. 

Roger opens his mouth, but not a word comes out. His cheeks burn, his heart beats so strong it’s painful. He fills the first glass he finds with water, slowly drinks it, and his throat feels better at the same time that Brian comes back from cleaning the dining room’s table. 

Fine, the kitchen probably isn’t the best place to confess his love anyway. He gestures at Freddie to follow him, and he notices on his way that John still is on the phone. The stairs leading towards his room seem to end way too fast, and as soon as he is inside, he slowly lets himself fall on the old bed. He feels the mattress slightly sink under Freddie’s weight. There’s no way back now.

“…I…” He thinks about where he can start. “…You know about my… tendency of being a chick magnet. Bragging about having a list of girlfriends like the phone book. Having a partner for one night, and another the next day. Just… having sex with a lot of girls and not giving a shit in the world about wanting a “true” girlfriend. I loved it.”

He stops, his eyes fixed on the old blue wallpaper. Eventually, he’s gonna have to look at Freddie.

His smile drops. “...Well, not anymore. I… It stopped satisfying me.”

As his feelings for his friend were evolving, being intimate with women started to feel different. The usual physical fulfillment that would come with a good night of sex wasn’t really there anymore. No matter who his partner was, no matter how skilled she was. Kissing, caressing women, even flirting with them wasn’t enjoyable or satisfying as it was before. Inconceivable, for the Don Juan he was. But it was there, or rather, the lack of something was there. 

“...I… Brian kinda confronted me on the subject while on you were on the phone. He said I was tired of all of this, shagging random girls, that now I wanted someone that would stay.” He stops again. “…And it’s true. I want someone that matters to me other than how much pleasure she can bring me in bed. ...You understand?”

“...Of course I do. I know you love sex, but you’re not just a sex machine.” Freddie’s soft voice is comforting. 

Roger smiles again, and finally looks at his friend. There’s nothing but affection flowing through his eyes, and he feels a bit more in love. He blushes, realising how close they are. How hard he tries not to look at his lips. His heart is pounding against his chest. Now the more difficult part was coming.

“...There’s… Actually I… I’m in love.” These words are as difficult to say as he imagined, and he didn’t even address them directly to his friend.

“…That’s great Roger.” A sincere smile lightens up Freddie’s face. “Who is the lucky girl?” 

His heart is going to explode. He opens his mouth, but once again, not a word comes out. 

_‘What do you think he’s going to tell you? That he feels the same?’_

A lump forms in his throat. 

_‘He has a girlfriend. He’s going to break your heart.’_

He bites the inside of his cheek.

_‘He’s your best friend. You’ll ruin everything.’_

Tears start to pearl at his eyes. 

_‘Oh now you’re crying. In front of him. Great move.’_

He passes swiftly his hand to dry his tears, but they come back and start flowing. He looks down, as he starts sobbing uncontrollably. He can’t stop now, he has to tell him, but all he can say is a mere “sorry”. A hand lays affectionately on his back, moving in a slow, comforting way. Another lays under his shoulder, and Roger finds the strength to raise his head. His blue eyes meets brown eyes, those gentle, deep brown eyes. Freddie’s soft smile is killing him. As soon as the singer opens his mouth, Roger puts his hand on it. His lips are indeed soft. 

Slowly, he passes his hand on Freddie’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his lips before joining the corner of his mouth. Freddie’s eyes open slightly more, locked into the blonde’s, but he doesn’t move. He lays his other hand under the singer’s jaw. His heart is going to be burst of out his chest. He hasn’t been this nervous since forever.

_‘Screw it.’_ And with these wise words, he closes his eyes and leans forwards, locking his lips on Freddie’s. 


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing Roger’s nervousness turning to silent tears then sobs puts a blow to Freddie’s heart. He has rarely seen him cry like that. The last time it happened dates back to a few years ago, because of some familial problems to which his friend couldn’t do much. What kind of situation was the person he loved in, to make him unable to say anything aside from a mere “sorry”?

Freddie lays a hand on his friend’s back, another on his shoulder. He always had some physical affection to give whenever him, Brian or Deaky felt down. Roger raises his head, their looks cross. His beautiful blue eyes start to redden. Freddie shows him a small smile he hopes to be comforting, thinking about what he could say to help. He could say that it’s okay, that Roger doesn’t have to be sorry for crying in front of him. As soon as he opens his mouth though, the blonde puts his hand against it, so he stays silent. His hand lingers on his face, slowly moving to his cheek. Freddie feels his own breath against Roger’s thumb, before it joins the corner of his mouth. Another hand lays under his jaw. Beautiful blue eyes are fixed in his own, and the singer realises his heart is beating faster. He knows what is going to happen. 

For a moment, time seems to stop. Roger’s mouth twitches slightly, he closes his eyes and leans forwards. 

Something sparks inside Freddie as he receives the kiss. The drummer doesn’t dare moving at first, before slowly, softly, trying to capture the singer’s lips between his own. One of his hands moves shyly to his shoulder, the other one slides behind his neck, a few fingers loosing themselves in black hair. 

_‘What are you doing? Push him away. You shouldn’t enjoy this.’_ A part of his mind orders.

But Freddie doesn’t listen. Mary has exited his mind. When was the last time she gave him a kiss that would make him yearn for more? Even the most passionate ones has tended to feel lackluster since a certain time. He has the right to enjoy a kiss even if it’s not from her, no?

He is so absorbed in this soft and gentle kiss, he doesn’t notice the hand previously on his shoulder is now gaining confidence by sliding down his chest. 

A small knock on the room’s door is heard. “Guys?” 

Eyes suddenly open, Roger jumps away from Freddie, brutally breaking off the kiss, before their look cross and he seems to come back to reality. Freddie is red and out of breath, just like him. Seconds ago, some of his fingers were sliding on his friend’s satin pyjamas, some were lost in his dark and soft mass of hair. And his lips were on his mouth. Kissing him. 

His cheeks burn violently, and he can’t hold up his deep brown look anymore. 

“…Yeah?” Freddie responds eventually to who he believes is John.

“…Just wanted to know if you were up for Scrabble.” 

Normally he would never say no to Scrabble, and he has a revenge to take over Brian, but Freddie doesn’t think he will be capable of focusing on the game after what happened. Neither will Roger, most probably.

“…No, we’re uh, a bit tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie, their kiss had been emotionally draining.

There’s a small moment of silence. “Okay. Good night then.”

The old parquet creaking more and more distantly indicates that John left and went downstairs. That doesn’t mean Roger feels like he can breath again. 

The silence comes back in the room, mostly disturbed by the breathing of its two occupants. Freddie realises pretty well what just happened. There are some questions he would like to ask, to Roger and himself, but right now, he only wants to make sure his friend is alright. He can’t see his face, hidden behind his long blond hair, but he can hear his ragged breath. He silently shifts towards him, before placing his hand on his shoulder. 

It startles him. “F-Freddie, I-I...” He takes a long breath, but no more words come out.

“It’s okay Rog.” The singer starts to slowly stroke his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“...But I can’t just, kiss you and stay silent. That’s not right.”

“...What do you want to say then?” He asks softly.

He has to finally say it. A proper “I love you”. But as his eyes cross the singer’s soft and deep brown look, Roger starts to feel overwhelmed again. Despite his efforts, he can’t prevent tears from coming back. It pains Freddie to see his friend like this. He can’t remember the last time he looked so vulnerable.

“…I’m-I’m in love…” The tears start to run down his cheeks. “Fuck, not again.” He mutters, passing his hand to dry them, before sniffing so no snot would drip from his nose and make him even more ridiculous.

Freddie leaves the room for a second to fetch a tissue. He actually comes back with the entire small pack he keeps in his own room, and gives one to Roger with a warm smile. The drummer thanks him, wiping his eyes before turning his head away and blowing his nose in a graceless noise, cursing himself for being such a mess. He used to be so good and confident with words and gestures to charm girls, but the singer makes him stammer and create omelets with his words. Before you charm Freddie, he’s the one who charms you. 

He wishes he could use a bit of his on-stage self-assurance here. Then again, despite his experience of playing concerts in front of hundreds, nothing could have prepared him for confessing his love to his male best friend, him, a straight man and a womaniser. Well, not exactly straight anymore. 

He takes a few seconds to breath in and out. He repeats a few times the line in his head. 

_‘I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with…’_

Roger frowns. It sounds… cheesy. Out loud, it’ll probably sound worse, and he’ll probably stammer again. He’d feel like a smitten teen confessing his love to his first crush. It’s not like he ever told it to a lot of girls, but it doesn’t feel personal enough. Doesn’t feel like the right thing to say. There has to be another way to tell Freddie. 

Maybe he doesn’t have to use words. Maybe he could… 

His heart beats faster again. He turns and leans close to the singer so their shoulders brush. His eyes cross Freddie’s ones, and he gently places a kiss on his lips. Just another one. For a few privileged seconds. 

He tries to resist caressing him, but one of his hands ends up on his waist, under his pyjamas. He feels Freddie’s hands on his shoulders before gently being pulled away from him and his soft lips, bringing him back to reality. Their looks cross again, and he knows too well what it means.

“…I can’t, Roger.” The singer tells him in a too soft voice. 

He knew it was to be expected. He knew it would certainly end like this. He knew the chance of positive words coming out of his confession was low. It still hurts atrociously. His friend’s gentle brown eyes, full of affection, make it even worse. 

Roger bites the inside of his cheek. He knows he has to accept it. But at he back of his mind, there are some thoughts he wished he was brave enough to tell, to scream out loud. He is certain Freddie isn’t ready to hear them though. And he doesn’t want to make this situation more difficult and painful that it already is, for the both of them. He doesn’t even want to think about how what happened will impact them tomorrow.

“…I know.” He responds in a low voice. 

The silence comes back between them, and Roger is glad for it. He doesn’t want to hear pointless apologies, supposedly comforting words, or any words for that matter. There isn’t much Freddie could say right now that would make him feel better or that wouldn’t make his spirits sink even lower. The singer himself knows it too. 

He was staying still, not daring moving from his spot. He is conscious he’s unable to do anything to ease his friend’s suffering, so his presence now is probably pointless. At the same time, he felt like he left right now, just like that, he would abandon his friend to his torments. So he waits. Roger stays silent.

Several minutes pass, before he opens his mouth again. “…I’d like to stay alone, please.” 

Freddie slowly gets up from the bed, his body feeling heavy all of a sudden. Before opening the door, he takes a last look at his friend. The sight of the blonde with his head lowered is enough to make him realise he shouldn’t have had looked. Roger is strong, he tells himself. He’s not going to cry again. At least he hopes so. 

“…Good night, Roger.” His throat feels dry. He thinks about how there’s no way his friend will sleep well tonight.

Eventually, the drummer wishes him a good night too. He leaves the room, feeling emotionally and physically drained. He has no idea how much time passed. There’s still some light downstairs. He can hear a faint voice talking, John must still be on the phone. He can’t hear Brian, and coming across him or anyone else is the last thing he wants right now, so he rushes in his own room. Once inside, he doesn’t bother putting the lights on, simply letting himself fall on his large bed. 

A heavy sigh escapes his mouth. Roger won’t be the only one to sleep badly tonight.

 

-*-

 

His drink is now almost empty. He could just take one last gulp and leave this bar. It’s late, Mary is probably waiting for him. Instead, Freddie stays there, and glances one more time at the person sitting a few seats away from him. A young man with short black hair and blue eyes, in a conversation with another man around a table. He has been talking since… Freddie couldn’t really tell, and his ears didn’t take a word of what he was talking about. But his eyes definitely took their time to detail his face, to notice his pretty smile. It’s a miracle if this guy didn’t notice him, because too much time has been spent in this bar looking at him instead of drinking the beer he had in front of him. 

A part of his mind tells him he shouldn’t be staring at him this way. But, it’s just staring. And he’s cute. He has the right to find this man cute, no?

He watches the cute man’s drinking companion get up, saying goodbye with a few words and a smile before leaving the bar. Freddie quickly looks away, hoping the cute man focused on the guy leaving and he didn’t catch him looking at him. He should follow his example and leave too, before he notices him staring. But no, he stays in his chair. His interest goes briefly to the posters on the wall, and his eyes linger on an advertisement for Coke with the typical smiling and beautiful woman on it. Her supposedly charm does nothing on him. He’d rather look at the cute man.

He slightly turns his head, and his eyes meet the cute man’s blue eyes. Freddie freezes, his cheeks blush. The young man blinks. He drinks a bit of the colorful cocktail he has in hand, his clear eyes still on the singer, before showing him a smile. Freddie doesn’t know how he should interpret it. Does it even mean something?

For a few seconds, he contemplates finally finishing his own drink and leaving this place. So he finishes his beer. But instead of going to the front door, his legs lead him towards the restrooms, avoiding the pair of blue eyes. 

Freddie raises his brows in surprise as he enters the empty toilets. The ambient odor is surprisingly okay, and the rest of the room looks clean enough, even though he’s not going to check every stall to see if they’re dirty or not. He has been used to much worse. Clean toilets are always appreciable. The singer gets close to one of the taps, and passes some water on his face, before looking at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are still a bit red.

What was he even doing there? He should have left the bar to go back to his place and Mary, his girlfriend and fiancee, many minutes ago, instead of looking at and thinking about the cute stranger. 

He hears someone else enter the toilets, so he acts like he’s there for a reason, and starts washing his hands. He takes a look in the mirror and freezes, again. It’s the young man he’s been looking at. He can’t help but keep his eyes on his reflection. He is also washing his hands. His blue eyes then look up and meet his own reflection.

His cheeks gets warmer. Freddie could have quickly looked away in an attempt of pretending he hasn’t been looking at him, or even storm out of the restrooms, but his eyes stay on the stranger. 

“Something’s wrong?” The young man asks, startling him.

There’s not a trace of animosity in his voice. He just sounds curious. Freddie pulls back his hands from the cold water, and in his unfocused state of mind it’s a wonder he thinks about turning off the tap. He thinks about how he could leave out of this situation smoothly, or at least he tries to, and words start to jostle in his mind.

“I-Well-You’re cute.”

The young man opens his eyes wider. Freddie realises what he just blurted, and he’s mortified. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Now that his thoughts are out, he braces himself for the negative reaction he believes is about to come, but the young man doesn’t throw any insults or hits at him. Instead, he smiles.

“Thanks.” He reduces the distance between them. “…You’re cute too.”

Freddie blinks, before processing the compliment, blushing lightly. “…I’m not cute, my teeth are horrible.”

The young man frowns. “Just because you have prominent teeth doesn’t mean they’re horrible.” He gets even closer and lays a hesitant hand on the singer’s cheek. “Trust me, they don’t make you any less handsome.”

A part of Freddie’s mind is yelling that this isn’t right, he shouldn’t let this guy touch him like this, and should better run away from him. But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t have the slightest intent of moving from here. 

When the cute guy gains more confidence and puts a hand on his waist, bringing him a tiny bit closer, all he does is continue to look at him, his eyes, his lips. This guy isn’t that much taller than him, he’s far from having a large stature, and he’s most probably a few years younger than him, given the start of an uneven beard growing on his face. But he feels strangely protected. His heart beats very fast, his cheeks are burning, and he feels nervous, but it feels good. He knows what is going to happen, and he wants it to happen.

“…Oh, by the way, the name’s Nick.” The young man tells him softly.

“…Freddie.” They share a look one more time.

They close their eyes and lock their lips together. It starts off as soft, but it doesn’t take long before more passion flow through their bodies, making them deepening the kiss. Something warm is blooming inside Freddie. This feel very different from kissing Mary. She doesn’t have a light stubble that tickles his skin. She doesn’t have strong hands that hold his hips. She doesn’t make him feel this good. 

The two loose themselves in the moment, not realising they were moving backwards until Freddie feels the cold wall against his back. His hands passes on Nick’s waist, under his jacket, bringing him even closer. Their bodies are practically stuck together, and Freddie finds the sensation of being held close like this incredible. Though it would be even better without all that clothing in their way. Especially his tight pants, which seem to be even tighter now. 

Eventually, they pull apart from each other lightly, out of breath. They take a look at each other, faces red, gasping and smiling like idiots. Nick passes one of his hands on Freddie’s burning cheek, caressing it softly. Mary has never seemed so far away at this moment. 

Nick’s eyes lower to his crotch, and his smile grows wider. “Looks like you really enjoyed it.”

Freddie blushes even more. His pants are uncomfortably tight. “…It had been… a while since I kissed a man.”

Nick lays his other hand on his inner thigh. “Would you like to take it further than a kiss?”

The singer’s heart is pounding against his chest. 

There’s a strict voice in his head who is responding with a big no, telling that that he has a girlfriend, who is even his fiancee. But once again, Freddie doesn’t want to listen. Yes, he’s with Mary, it’s late, and she’s probably wondering where the hell he is right now, but… a kiss with the young man isn’t satisfying enough. He desires more. He needs to kiss him again, to touch him and be touched more, with less clothes and restraint this time. Besides, it’s just something physical. He’s going to do his thing with Nick, and then he’ll go back to her, like nothing happened. She won’t know a word about all of this.

He grips Nick’s waist. “I… I want that. But… Not here.” 

While the bar was almost empty, someone could still come at any moment. Restrooms aren’t exactly the most intimate nor comfortable place to explore each other’s bodies in peace.

“I understand. How about I take you to my place? It’s far from being a luxury hotel, but…”

Freddie says he doesn’t care. It can’t be worse than the dingy flat he used to share with Roger. He’d simply like some privacy and a bed. A moment away from everything, in another arms that Mary’s.

Nick places a few caresses on his thighs, close to his crotch, a sly grin on his face, and Freddie gently pulls away his hands, grinning too. They share a quick kiss before leaving the place, his heart and body filled with desire and excitement.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The finishing touches took sooo long.  
> 2) Writing the beginning of a chapter is not easy, but damn writing the end is twice harder.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy.

When Freddie wakes up, the sunlight is piercing through the curtains of his room. He blinks a few times and groans. A complete night passed, but he only slept for a few hours. It’s probably still too early to be up, but he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep. He’s a bit drowsy, so instead of getting up, he stays under the covers, moving his body until he finds a satisfying position. He contemplates waiting like this until he gets bored or Brian comes get him for breakfast.  
Then Roger comes to his mind. His sleepy state immediately wears off. 

…Why would he stay in his room? It’s not like it could make him forget what happened yesterday. 

He puts on his slippers, and opens carefully the door. The ambient silence and darkness greets him, only disturbed by a few rays of light passing through the shutters and some birds chirping in the distance. The door to Brian’s room is closed, like the drummer’s. His heart tighten. He wants to think his friend slept better than him.

The loud creaking of the stairs as he walks down is awful, he feels like each step is going to wake up the entire farm. His legs lead him slowly through the silent house to the living room, and the clock on the sideboard indicates it’s close to 8 already. Soon Brian should get up to prepare breakfast, but he’s not looking forwards to it. He’ll have to face Roger, who’ll probably not be very talkative at breakfast for once, and will be going through an unpleasant state of mind partially because of him. He has no idea of how awkward things could go between them and it worries him. And there’s not only the breakfast, but the rest of the day too. And then, tomorrow-

_‘Stop it. Think about something else.’_

Freddie lets himself fall on the couch, breathing in and out slowly. They are here, in Rockfield Farm, in the middle of nowhere, to record an album. Their fourth album, called A Night At The Opera. Today, they are supposed to work on ‘39, a song from Brian. This time, he won’t sing it himself, the guitarist will lend his voice for the song. Brian has such a gentle, beautiful voice, very different from his own, but as emotional and pleasing to the ears. The lyrics are thoughtful, like always, and sad, a recurrent characteristic in his friend’s songs. The musical accompaniment will be quite different from their other songs, he believes there will be no drums-

Roger and his confession comes to his mind, again. He sees him sobbing, looking at him in a desirous way before leaning forwards and kissing him, the sorrow in his eyes, on his face when he told him “he couldn’t”. 

His stomach churns. He won’t be able to escape from the confession nor its consequences.

Roger in love. It hadn’t happened since years. It explained why he confessed he missed having someone living with him, why he replied to Brian that he didn’t need girls to enjoy this place, him who always loved to be somewhere close to a place where he could meet – before going further of course – some pretty girls. And most importantly, that was why he said shagging new girls regularly didn’t satisfy him anymore – Roger loved sex and girls. Someone finally took roots in his mind and heart, and now he wanted to quit his womaniser routine to try to make things work with the lucky girl he loved. Freddie thought that was endearing.

Of course, he didn’t expect himself being the lucky girl, at all. 

The living room suddenly gets lighten up. “Good morning Fred.”

Freddie turns around and notices John standing at the entrance, looking fresh already. John is always the first up in the morning, and the only one of them who has never looked like a zombie after getting out of bed. The singer hasn’t faced a mirror yet to confirm it, but next to the bassist, he probably looks even more tired. He greets him with a smile nonetheless, and his friend sits next to him. 

“I’m surprised to see you up this early. Usually we have to drag him out of bed. Everything’s alright?”

His smile disappears. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just… I didn’t sleep well.”

John sends him a questioning look. “How come?”

Freddie takes a moment to think. The idea of telling the bassist everything that happened yesterday crosses his mind, but… although John is absolutely trust-worthy, a great sensible, tolerant and comprehensive person, Roger most probably and understandably hided his secret from everyone. The singer feels like it’s not up to him to talk to others about his friend’s feelings, be them one of their closest friends. 

“I… I had a lot on my mind.” It couldn’t have been more true. 

John is looking at him fixedly, staying perfectly still aside from blinking, and Freddie tenses, feeling like if he continues, he’ll manage to pierce through his brief answer and discover the confession. Though his stares can be very effective at affecting people, John unfortunately can’t read thoughts yet, and eventually replies with a simple “I understand”. Freddie is glad he’s not trying to push him to tell more, but at the same time, John is always so perceptive, who knows what he has in mind behind this “I understand”? It could mean a lot of things. 

The silence comes back, and the singer thinks quickly to find another subject to talk about. He thought about the confession enough.

“…So, how is Veronica?” He asks eventually.

A small, but bright smile forms on John’s face. “Oh, she’s fine, and Robert too. It felt good to hear their voices.”

Freddie raises a brow, showing an amused smile. “What, Robert already talked to you? I know he’s your son and you’re a genius Deaky, but still…”

“I’m not saying the cute gurgles I heard from him mean anything. I just liked to hear him, you know?”

Freddie nods. “I completely understand. Nothing makes me smile like hearing my babies Tom and Jerry on the phone. They’re adorable when they answer to me!”

“What, they talk to you?” John responds with the same amused smile than his friend before.

Freddie makes a gesture with his hand. “Who needs words when you can have the cutest meows and purring?” 

He snorts. Freddie and cats make a heartwarming combination. “By the way, how is Mary?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” He answers a bit too quickly.

He tries to keep his smile, but Freddie now regrets choosing their respective phone calls as the conversation subject. Mary’s name brings several things back to mind about which he would have prefer not to think about for now, and John immediately catches the way his expression goes more serious.

“Something’s wrong, Freddie?” He asks, leaning forwards.

His smile disappears again, his eyes are now fixed on his hands. “…It’s just, you know. There’s the wedding, and… children. These are important things, and brings responsibilities, and…” He can’t finish his sentence.

“…You don’t feel ready yet?”

Freddie doesn’t respond. He can’t respond. If only it was that simple… 

His uneasy expression speaks loud enough for the bassist. “I understand, marriage is an important event in someone’s life, and I can’t say I was a hundred percent ready when Ronnie told me she was pregnant. But I’m sure you’ll do fine, Freddie. I know raising a child can seem scary, it’s not an easy task and sometimes you don’t know if you’ll be a good parent, but with the way you love and take care of your cats, there’s no way you’d be a bad father.”

John’s reassuring smile is precious and heartwarming. It could almost make him think he doesn’t have to worry about the future, that everything’s going to be okay. Freddie doesn’t say a word, but shows a thankful smile to his friend. Now, if they could drop the subject…

Coincidentally, the gurgling of a stomach comes to help him, and the two look at each other. Brian still hasn’t come to prepare the breakfast – he alternates with John, and Roger when he feels like cooking, which doesn’t happen often – so both of them get up, determined to motivate him to get out of bed and feed them. When they arrive on the first floor, the doors of their friends’ rooms are still closed. John softly knocks on Brian’s room door, and Freddie’s eyes can’t help but pass on the drummer’s. He hopes the knocking doesn’t wake him up. The probability is low, but he still wouldn’t want anything to rob some rest from his friend any more.

After a moment of waiting, they can hear muffled steps coming closer, the handle moves, and the door open, revealing the guitarist, who’s eyes are still half-closed. All his energy seems to be currently residing in his untamed mane of hair.

“Yeah?” He asks, before yawning.

“Good morning dear. It’s your turn to prepare the breakfast.”

Brian groans, but still leaves the room, wishing for the comfort of his bed already. He’s not an early bird like John, and can get cranky in the morning, so Freddie shows him a smile to express he appreciates his efforts, and Brian can’t help but smile back. 

“Could you wake Roger up?” John asks, before going downstairs with the guitarist.

The uneasiness takes over the singer at the mention of the blonde’s name. But it’s not like he can avoid him for much longer. They are bandmates, and friends. They’ll have to talk eventually.

He waits until he can hear Brian and John in the distance, before opening the door as carefully as possible, and fortunately, it doesn’t creak. In the ambient darkness, it takes him a few seconds to notice his friend fully.

Roger looks asleep, and the covers are more on the ground than on the bed. Freddie gets closer, walking slowly towards the bed, before crouching so he can take a better look at him. His blond hair are all over the place, and his face is half-buried against his pillow, leaving his smooth left cheek almost uncovered. His breath is steady, faintly audible. Maybe he did sleep well. Maybe it took him hours before falling asleep properly. It would be understandable. Either way, he looks so peaceful, so… cute, the singer doesn’t have the heart to wake him up. 

There’s a strand of hair on his left cheek. Carefully, on of Freddie’s hands takes it and gently places it behind his ear. When the tip of his fingers brush against his ear and Roger shifts a bit, the singer realises what he just did and freezes. Fortunately, he doesn’t wake up. His heart beating fast, he decides to leave before the blonde wakes up for good and sees him so close to his face. He takes one last look at him before leaving the room silently and walking back to the kitchen.

 

-*-

 

For once, Freddie doesn’t have a big role to play on a song. He doesn’t sing ‘39, and there’s no piano involved, so for once, he stays for the entire day outside the recording booth, next to Roy, their sound engineer, listening to others. It doesn’t mean he’s inactive, oh no. He always have some comments to do on his friends’ performance, be them words of praise or encouragement to do even better than the best they can. He’s never really outside the creation of a song. 

_In the year of ‘39 assembled here the Volunteers,_  
_In the days when lands were few_  
_Here the ship sailed in the blue and sunny morn,_  
_The sweetest sight ever seen…_

Listening to Brian’s voice soothes him. It’s soft and beautiful and so pleasing to the ears. A real shame he hasn’t sung more on their albums. 

“…So, how does it sound?” The guitarist asks after they stop the recording. 

“It’s lovely dear, I could warp myself in your voice like a cover.” Freddie confesses in a heartfelt tone.

Brian’s eyes widen. His cheeks take a nice shade of red, and a shy but happy smile appears on his face. “T-Thank you Freddie.”

Always proud yet modest of his abilities, such compliments never fail to make him blush, especially when they come from someone that can be so hard to please like Freddie.

“Don’t let it go to your head though. The song’s only starting.” Roger interrupts the moment with a killjoy tone.

Brian is taken aback by his rather serious voice. He blinks, then raises a brow. “Oh, because we all know you never get big-headed when you receive a compliment. Jealousy is not a pretty thing Rog.”

The drummer frowns. “I’m not jealous!” He assures. He then notices John trying to hide his sniggering. “What are you laughing at, twit?!”

“Y-You’re being very defensive for someone who’s not jealous.” The bassist tells him with a sly smile.

His cheeks redden. Maybe he was jealous. No, honestly, he was completely and stupidly jealous, and everyone here knew it. Of course, he would never admit it out loud.

Freddie watches him bicker a bit more with Brian, before looking at Roy, who simply shrugs. This siblings-like fight is nothing. The man has seen far worse, back in London. The singer too, and he knows too well things can get seriously and easily heated when a source of disagreement appears between them, even over something trivial. He’s the oldest, he has to act as the peacemaker.

“Rog, please, look at me.”

Hearing his voice, Roger’s face soften, he lowers his hands and turns towards him. As their look cross, Freddie remember he tended to avoid looking at him this morning, at least for too long. He has to say something fast.

He takes his sweetest voice and shows his kindest smile. “I really appreciate Brian’s voice, but we all know you have the voice of an angel.” 

The blonde shows a glowing smile, while Brian and John roll their eyes. 

“Now, can we stop fighting? We have a song to work on.”

 

-*-

 

Finally, the evening. The end of their hard work, hours of concentration and efforts on creating and playing music. Now each of the four can put their minds and concentration on something else. Brian is in the kitchen, thinking about what he could cook for dinner, John is laying on the couch in the living room, face buried in a thick book. And Roger is laying on his bed, wondering how he can approach the confession with Freddie.

During the day, they managed to talk to each other like it never happened, only because they had the demanding work on their new album to focus on. But when they bumped into each other on the stairs, walking in opposite directions, Freddie avoided his look and blurted a few words before disappearing. He didn’t say a word about the confession today, and the drummer doesn’t know what it means. Does Freddie want not to talk about it? Does he want to consider it a thing in the past and act like it never happened? Does he want to talk about it, but doesn’t know how to?

Roger hopes it’s the third option. He doesn’t want it to be over, after two kisses and an implied “I love you”. He wants to believe he has a chance, even if the singer rejected him. Speaking of him, he doesn’t have a clue where he might be. Probably outside, looking for Charlotte again, after trying to find her this morning without success. 

_‘If I was a cat, Freddie would come to talk to me.’_

He sighs. A shower, he needs a shower. It could make him some good, after all of this. Plus for once they don’t have to worry about running out of hot water.

He walks downstairs, towards the bathroom. He opens the door entirely, not expecting anyone to be here, and he stops in his tracks when his eyes fall on a naked Freddie, back against the wall opposing the small shower. His brown eyes dart on him before going back to the curtain. The blonde mutters a few words of apology for intruding, before noticing he seems to be on his guard. As if he was wary of the shower, or something that could be inside the shower.

He frowns. “Something’s wrong Fred?”

“There’s a spider, on the curtain…” Freddie points with his head.

Now he understood why Freddie seemed stuck to the wall. He doesn’t hate spiders, but he appreciates a certain distance between him and them if they are bigger than half an inch. Fortunately for him, Roger doesn’t mind spiders, so he gets closer, takes the plastic curtain is hand and shakes it very hard for a few seconds. He pulls it open, scrutinising the tiles before he notices a big black spider with thin legs too long for its body – exactly like the ones his friend only tolerates if they are far, far away from him – that has crawled all the way up, close to the ceiling. It’s still too close for Freddie, who tries to morph into the wall behind him. You never know, it could decide to crawl down and attack him, that’s why he has to keep eye contact with it, even if it makes him really uncomfortable.

“I’m not showering with that thing in there.” He says, teeth clenched.

“…Freddie, it’s not a tarantula. Yeah, its looks ugly as hell, but it’s more scared of you than anything.”

He shakes his head negatively. “I’m not going in there. What if I go in and it falls in my hair?!” 

The blonde can’t help but smile hearing his dramatic tone. Freddie frowns when he notices it.

“Screw you, that’s not funny!”

Roger rolls his eyes, amused. “Do you want me to kill it?”

“…No, just, can’t you make it leave? Please.”

There’s everything Roger needs to protect Freddie against spiders in a closet in the hallway, just across the bathroom. He grabs a broom, and his friend hasn’t moved an inch when he enters the bathroom again. He’s still staring at the spider, which hasn’t moved either. With a few well-placed sweeps, he manages to make the creature leave the bathroom to wander elsewhere in the house or find a dark corner to set up its web. Be that as it may, Freddie finally gets away from the wall, breathing out, relieved. If Roger didn’t enter, who knows how much time would he have stayed stuck to the tiles covering the surface? 

“Thank you…”

“Now that the room is free of monsters, you can shower.”

The singer smiles at him, and he smiles back. Then he realises, or rather processes he’s standing in the bathroom with a him completely naked. It was definitely not the first time they’ve been in the same room with one of them naked – too small changing rooms for the four of them before a concert, the cramped bathroom of the dingy flat they used to share together. But the context was different.

Their eyes are fixed into each other’s, and their smiles disappears as the ambiance in the room gets less light. Roger’s heart beats faster. The bathroom seems much smaller now. 

The thought that he should leave now is there in his mind, hidden behind the fact that he can’t lay his eyes off Freddie, who starts to blush. Something is blooming inside his chest. To say the singer looks good is an understatement, but he wonders what face he would make if he was pinned against the wall while he would-

_‘What the hell are you thinking?! Get out.’_

Roger blushes himself. “Sorry, I-I’ll leave.” 

He rushes out of the bathroom, walking quickly through the house. Not really watching where he was going, he bumps into John the hallway leading to the dining room, strongly enough to make him stop and meet his grey eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but Roger doesn’t have time for this. He cuts him with a “sorry” and rushes upstairs, before letting himself fall on his bed. In the silence, he hears how fast his heart his beating.

Those damn hormones. He’s not proud of the dirty thoughts that invaded his mind a moment ago. Not that he never had thoughts about doing certain things with Freddie before, but if he didn’t leave the room, Freddie might have found himself with a tongue in his mouth and a pair of daring hands exploring his body.

He hears a knock on the door. “Roger?” It’s John.

“...What?” He says, or rather groans eventually.

“…Everything’s okay?”

“No.” He answers without thinking. “…I mean…” A sigh finishes his answer.

There’s a short moment of silence. “…Do you want to talk about it?”

A part of Roger would rather forget the rest of the world right now – John wouldn’t insist if he said no anyway. Another part of him thinks talking with the bassist might do some good. He’s the most quiet of them four, but he always have some helpful words for his friends whenever they share their worries or problems with him. Roger didn’t intend for anyone to know about his feelings outside Freddie, but John is open-minded and comprehensive. Besides, clever and perceptive as he is, he might discover it soon enough anyway, so he prefers telling him himself now.

He finds the motivation to sit properly, and calls the bassist. He enters and joins him on the bed. In the hallway, he had noticed the drummer looked affected by something. Now with an extended look, John could tell he was definitely not okay.

“What’s the matter?” He asks softly, leaning forwards.

The blonde pinches his lips together. “…You promise to keep it for yourself?” 

“You have my word.” He assures solemnly. 

He breaths in and out slowly. “It’s about Freddie. Things have been… off between us today.”

“I’ve noticed.” The bassist says, and Roger isn’t surprised. “I assume something happened yesterday during the evening?”

He’s simply looking at him, but his clear look has a tendency to be piercing. Roger almost feels like he’s going to know about the confession even before he says a word about it. 

His cheeks get warmer. “…You see, I’m… I’ve been in love with Freddie for… a while.”

He stops to let the info sink in, heart still beating fast. John never has been a very expressive person, so he’s not expecting a big reaction from him. His grey eyes squint for a very short time, as if something clicked in his mind, then his face goes back to a certain neutrality. What wouldn’t he give to know what was going inside his head.

“…Does Freddie knows?” He asks after a short silence.

“…Yeah. I told him yesterday, after the dinner.” He stops for a moment. “…I hesitated telling him for some time. Actually, I couldn’t even tell him. Could you believe it?”

John raises a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“I got overwhelmed, and… there was too much tears in my eyes.” Roger blushes slightly. “…So I kissed him. Twice. Then he told me “he couldn’t”, with that fucking soft voice.” His voice has gotten considerably lower near the end. “We didn’t talk about it since.”

It pains John to see his friend like this. He’s definitely not as physical as Freddie when it comes to gestures of affection, but he still warps one arm around the blonde, and leans his head on his shoulder. Roger shifts a bit more in his embrace, and the two stay silent. He’s glad for John’s silent emotional support. A few minutes pass before he feels comfortable enough to speak again.

“…I-I’m serious about this Deaky. I’m not experimenting or whatever to see what it’s like with a bloke before going back to women. I’m in love with Freddie. Fuck, I haven’t been in love with someone since…” He makes a gesture with his hands. “What, years?”

“…When was the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?”

Roger grimaces. It’s not a pleasant memory. “Several weeks ago. In June.”

That was at least a month and a half ago. “Not even kissing?” John asks, surprised.

“Nowt.”

He’s blown away, eyes open wide. “That’s the longest period of abstinence I’ve ever seen you take.”

Roger is glad he’s not asking what has caused this period of abstinence in the first place, since it has lead to one hell of a crisis and loads of thoughts and questions about himself. Things had been pretty simple in his life until he fully realised he was feeling things that looked like physical attraction and then love for Freddie. The kind of love that sets off butterflies in your stomach, makes you blush and your heart go crazy.

“Well, like I said, I’m serious about this. It’s not a fling. I know I’m not exactly in the best position to hope for it, but, I’d like to, I wish I could try things with him.”

John is about to ask him something else, when a voice interrupts him. “Rog?”

He stiffens, and his heart skips a beat. It’s Freddie. “Yeah?”

There’s a moment of silence. “…I’d like to talk to you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is still in love. A storm is brewing up in Freddie's mind.

As soon as he hears Freddie asking to talk with Roger, John gets up from the bed, sending a “I’ll leave you two alone” look to the drummer. A good talk together is exactly what they need. He greets the singer on his way out before disappearing from their view, leaving the two to look at each other in silence. Both of them are nervous, waiting for the other to move.

Eventually, Roger slowly gets up from the bed and joins Freddie on the landing. He stills looks divine in his red pyjamas, and man, doesn’t he look cute when he blushes.

“So… What do you want to talk about?” 

He has a hard time holding up his look. “…I’m sorry.“

“…For what, Freddie?”

He sighs, uncomfortable. “Come on, Rog, we only talked to each other when we were working on ‘39. I’ve been acting like an idiot today, avoiding you and, and avoiding talking to you.”

It should have been easy. He said him no, so it shouldn’t have occupied his thoughts so much. He should have talked to his friend like he always does, maybe simply handling some subjects with care, or even ask if he needed to talk or anything, not completely avoiding talking to him like he did today. 

It’s a good thing Roger can’t see how much of a pandemonium there is in his mind currently.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to approach you, ‘cause… I thought I couldn’t just act like nothing happened, but at the same time…” He stops for a moment, before sighing again. “I-I guess I didn’t want to hurt you by saying something insensitive, but I only made things fucking awkward.” 

“…It’s okay, I understand. I wanted to talk to you too, but I didn’t know how.” 

Roger can’t blame him. He knows he didn’t really help either. He still should have gone to Freddie, if not to ask why he was avoiding him, at least to ask if something was wrong. But he didn’t do shit.

Sure, he did expect his confession would have some effect on his friend, but not that much, and he doubts it’s going to quietly go away tonight. But they can’t go on like this, being awkward around each other. He wants their stupid talks and moments together back. In love or not, Freddie is still his dearest friend.

“We need to get a hold of ourselves, Fred.” He says is a soft but serious voice.

The singer looks away, pinching his lips. “…I agree. I need to stop being a complete mess.”

Roger’s eyes widen, before he frowns. “What-Freddie, no, it’s not your fault, I’m the one-”

“You just confessed to me. You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to handle it.” He cuts him abruptly, anger creeping under his words.

The silence comes back between them. Freddie still looks away, teeth and hands clenched. Roger starts to think that, maybe, there’s more than the confession on his mind. 

“…What’s wrong, Freddie?” He asks, after hesitating.

He looks at him, but doesn’t answer. The drummer sighs, knowing insisting wouldn’t work. Something is troubling him greatly, and he is suddenly aware his confession might have made things worse. 

“Look, we… we can put aside what happened yesterday, for now. I don’t want us to stop talking and laughing at shit together like before. You’re still my best friend, Freddie.”

His brown eyes come back to him. “…But what about…”

Roger understands he’s talking about him. “I’ll… I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to see you uncomfortable because of me. I… care a lot about you.”

To lighten the atmosphere, he tries a smile, which disappears when he realises Freddie looks like he’s about to cry. Before he can do anything, the blonde finds himself with arms around his waist, holding him tight. Hearing Freddie’s ragged breath close to his ear puts a pang to his heart, and he returns the embrace, slowly stroking his back.

“It doesn’t-It’s not about you, Rog. ‘s not your fault.” He says in a low voice. 

“But Freddie-”

“Please, don’t talk.” He cuts him with an even lower voice.

So he stays silent, continuing to stroke his back for a bit. A feeling of powerlessness, then anger, takes over him and he curses himself. 

He is his best friend, dammit, he should have noticed something was affecting him. How long has it been going? How long has he been suffering from it? He should have been more concerned. He probably has been warped up in his own feelings too much to notice anything.

A sound of discomfort escapes Freddie’s mouth. “Rog, you’re crushing my ribs.”

He realises how tight his grip on him was, and he swiftly pulls back, feeling horrible, but the singer’s arms linger around him. He even brings him a bit closer, and Roger’s heart starts to beat faster. 

“…I like being in your arms.” He says in a much quieter voice.

Roger hesitantly places his arms around his waist. “Sorry for hurting you.”

Freddie whispers an “it’s okay”, and the silence comes back between them. Roger can hear Freddie’s breath has gone back to being steady and fainter, and it soothes him. Something warm blooms inside him when he feels fingers holding him a bit tighter, and he leans his head on his friend’s shoulder, a pleasant feeling taking over his body. As for Freddie, he wouldn’t mind staying like this, in the drummer’s arms, for the rest of the evening. Being held like this brings him a feeling of being cared for and protected, and he can’t express how much he needs that warm feeling. 

None of them know how much time has passed before Roger dares to disrupt the comforting silence surrounding them by calling Freddie’s name.

“Rog?”

He pinches his lips. “…Are we, uh, okay now?”

A smile forms on his face. “…I believe, dear. Thank you for being here with me.” He pulls back, and Roger is relieved to see him smile again. “We’re gonna need everything we got to finish this album.”

“…By the way, when do we start recording my song?” He asks with glowing eyes.

Freddie’s smile turns into a grimace. “Urgh, I forgot about this.” 

“Remember, you promised I would have the B-side. Otherwise, I can still get back into that cupboard.”

No thanks, he has no wish to relive this lively day. “Please, don’t. You will have it, Rog, don’t worry.” 

That damn car song. At least he doesn’t have to sing it. He’s still gonna have to sing the harmonies, but he can’t say no to harmonies. Harmonies make things so much greater, even the ones of which the lyrics are “I’m in loooove with my caaaar”.  
Roger looks ready to talk for hours about his baby, when their names are called by Brian from downstairs. He pouts, but only for a second, since it means it’s dinner time and something infinitely more appetising that disgusting green beans will satisfy his stomach.

His eyes linger on Freddie’s smile. His own feelings will have to wait, for now. He hopes his friend will open up and talk to him about the thing that weights on his mind, one day, not too far in the future. 

 

-*-

 

The rest of the week is nothing but hard work. As soon as they finished recording ‘39, the four went back to working on Freddie’s baby, Bohemian Rhapsody. Although the singer considers it their baby, with all the care and dedication the four musicians had put in the song. But the baby is far from being delivered yet. That’s okay, they’ll finish recording it in another studio, or even several studios if they need it. Freddie know they can’t rush the creation of a future masterpiece.

_‘Stay focused. Don’t disappoint them. Don’t disappoint Roger.’_

He can’t let his mind wander into a certain domain of unpleasant thoughts which would only trouble him unhelpfully and drag him away from the work that has to be done. The band needs the confident Freddie, the one who always reassures people when they are doubting themselves. Not the one suffering from insecurities and needing to be reassured himself. Not the one going through a crisis and struggling about a certain part of his identity. 

_‘Don’t think about it. It’s not important for now. You have an album to make.’_

This why during the evening, when they can finally think about other things that anything related to music, Freddie’s mind shifts to winning all the rounds of Scrabble – at least he tries to since he has serious competition, finding Charlotte and petting her extensively, and when he doesn’t do either of them, he immerses himself into the books John brought. Those science-fiction and detective novels are fascinating and very effective at monopolising his attention.  
But whether he thinks about it or not, nothing can’t erase the things that weight on his mind, lurking around in a part of his head. 

 

-*-

 

Even though the four are on a tight schedule – which most probably won’t be respected anyway – to create their album, that doesn’t mean they work all the time. The week-ends are still leisure days, allowing them to relax and enjoy summer. A bright sun in a blue sky devoid of the tiniest of clouds is appreciable, and nothing is more appreciable, under this idyllic roof, than going for a dip in a swimming pool. Or get a nice tan on a sun lounger. Coincidentally, Rockfield Farm has a swimming pool. And next to the swimming pool, there’s an asleep Freddie, wearing only sunglasses and a pair of red swimming trunks. And a magazine on his face, since he didn’t want to wear a hat but Brian insisted he had to protect his face from the sun, which Roger regrets. He can’t admire Freddie’s magnificent face that way. 

He doesn’t have too many regrets though. The magazine doesn’t cover the rest of his magnificent body, and even if the singer opens his eyes and takes off the magazine, he’ll have time to look elsewhere and pretend he wasn’t getting an eyeful of him. Nobody would know. Well, nobody aside from John. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he started to swim laps, but Roger hasn’t moved from the edge of the swimming pool, sitting, staying still except for his legs going back and forth in the water, a dreamy smile and bright eyes glued on his reddening face. 

“You’re going to catch a sunburn.” He tries, knowing his friend probably doesn’t care.

“Whatever.” He simply answers, keeping his eyes on the singer.

John rolls his eyes, before starting another lap. “We’ll see if you don’t regret it this evening.”

Sure, hot water and sunburns was a painful mix, but he could take a cold shower. Plus Brian, as the concerned mother he could be sometimes, certainly have some cream or a thing of the likes to heal their skin from nasty sunburns. In short, nothing could make him stop. 

For the last few days, he had been careful of his actions, doing everything he could to refrain his feelings from appearing too much to the singer, like he was doing before the confession. Freddie had told him they were okay, and things has been fine between them since their talk that evening, but he doesn’t want to make things awkward again. It had been grueling enough, for them both.

Anyway, since Freddie couldn’t see him now, he was going to enjoy it while could. He was simply too attractive. Of course, his body diverges from his conquests’ ones, but the singer still has some of the attributes he likes in women, such as long legs, luscious lips, and a nice bum. He wonders how his flat hairy chest would feel under his touch, if it would feel that different from soft pairs of breasts. It can’t be that unpleasant. Slowly, he raises one of his hands around, slightly moving his fingers, trying to imagine how caressing Freddie’s chest would feel.

“What the hell are you doing?”

For the first time since a good number of minutes, Roger’s eyes leave the singer, to focus on John, who stopped swimming as he noticed the blonde’s strange gesture. He’s suddenly aware that if it makes sense from his perspective, it probably looks weird to any outsider. Especially with the interested way he’s been looking at Freddie for some time now.

“…Uh…” 

John squints in puzzlement. “…On second thought, I don’t want to know.” 

Roger grunts at his implication. “Get your mind out of the gutter, twit. It’s not what you think.”

He sends him a doubtful look. “Am I supposed to believe you? You haven’t had sex for weeks and now you’re trying to tell me you had pure thoughts in mind, moving your hand like this?”

He pinches his lips. John wasn’t wrong for thinking that way, but it wasn’t like he was imagining his hand inside the singer’s swimming trunks. He then notices the smug grin the bassist is showing, and he already knows he won’t like what he’s about to say.

““When my hand’s on your grease gun”, huh. Were you inspired by Freddie when you wrote this?”

Roger blushes violently. “You wanker-”

“What’s going on?” A muffled voice asks under a magazine which is quickly thrown away to the side.

Roger turns towards Freddie, who is now awake, and watches him slowing getting up from the sun lounger. He stretches his nicely tan arms and legs, then sits back and takes off his sunglasses. 

“Wow, Rog, you’re all red. Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just the sun.” He hears John snigger, and he flips him off. 

Freddie frowns, surprised by his gesture. “Don’t you think that’s a bit rude, dear?”

“He deserved it.” Roger assures, glaring at the bassist.

John rolls his eyes, still grinning, before swimming until he reaches the edge and pulls himself out of the water. He grabs a colorful towel laying on the ground and spreads it on a nearby sun lounger, on the opposite side of the two. He then sits and lays down comfortably, before putting a hat on his face to cover it from the sun. Freddie then leaves his sun lounger and comes to sit next to Roger. His cheeks heat up from the new proximity, and his blue eyes lower to their hands resting on the edge of the pool, very close to each other. How he wishes their fingers could have brushed accidentally.

“Did I miss something while I was sleeping?” He asks, passing a hand through his hair.

His eyes linger on his chest for a bit, before ending their travel on his face. His sculpted cheekbones, his luscious lips, his beautiful deep brown eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek. 

_‘Fuck, he’s hot.’_

“N-Not much. Just Deaky being a smartarse.”

Freddie chuckles. “Well, he certainly knows his way with words.”

The silence comes back between them. The singer starts to move his legs back and forth in the water, staring into nothingness, head slightly tilted. Roger’s heart is pounding against his chest. Breathing in and out slowly fail to calm him down. He tries to focus on anything, the sun reflecting into the water, the trees close to the pool, but his eyes keep coming back to his soft lips. He’s so gorgeous. So close. 

The moment Freddie turns his head towards him, Roger almost instinctively leans forwards, closing his eyes and laying his lips on his. Such a small kiss, and yet it feels so good. 

His fingers shift on their own, moving around until they reach the singer’s hand. Feeling his soft and warm skin under his touch sends a shiver down his spine. He then realises what he’s doing, and the rational part of his brain makes him instantly pulls back his hand and his lips, an apologetic look in his eyes. He was supposed to control himself, dammit.

“Fuck-Sorry, I…” What can he even say? “…’m a fucking idiot.” 

Freddie stays silent for a moment, before putting a hand on his shoulder. “…It’s okay, Rog. Sometimes you just can’t help it.”

Sometimes the urge to kiss someone is just too strong to resist, even when you think you shouldn’t. He knows that feeling pretty well. He can’t blame his friend for being in love. 

Besides, it feels good, receiving kisses. He thinks he wouldn’t mind if Roger decided to kiss him again.

The drummer shows him an unconvinced smile, so he assures it’s okay once again, before he looks away, still not really convinced. A moment of silence passes between them, and Freddie tries to think of something to say to move the situation into a territory easier to handle. But there’s a question that ticks over in his mind, which he decides to ask out loud, after some hesitation. He has to know.

“…Roger?” 

He meets his soft and deep look, and Freddie feels his heart beat faster.

“…Do you… do you like men?” 

The drummer’s not surprised. He thought about being asked this question, sooner or later. 

“…I wondered for a time. But I haven’t felt attracted to another bloke. I’ve never felt attracted to blokes, actually.” He stops for a short time. “You’re the only one.” He adds in a softer voice. 

There’s something in the way he smiles, the way his eyes are shining, that makes him feel a bit light-headed. Unless it was the sun.

“I haven’t fallen for you because you’re a man though.” Roger continues. “I… fell for you because you’re Freddie, and you just happen to be a man. That’s all.”

“…And… the fact that I have a dick doesn’t bother you?”

He stares at him, pursuing his lips for a short time before shrugging. “I don’t care. I mean, sure, it’s different, and I have no idea how it… when…” He stops talking, and blushes a bit. “…Uuh, anyway, it’s not the most important.”

“…What’s the most important, then?”

Freddie watches Roger look away, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Then his eyes go back to him, full of nothing but love, and his smile is filled with affection. The singer can’t explain what is this warm thing he is feeling inside him.

“I’m lucky enough to know you as a friend, not just as Freddie Mercury, the amazing and talented lead singer of Queen. You’re kind, soft-hearted, comprehensive, you’re always ready to help and comfort us when we have problems. You are a wonderful and a beautiful person, Freddie.”

Roger watches his friend blushing – and getting cuter – a bit more by every compliment, while a semblance of smile was trying to appear through his embarrassment.

“You makes me laugh, and…” His own cheeks redden more. “I… just being with you makes me smile. Being with you makes me happy.” 

There’s a million other nice things he could say about Freddie, but he decides to stop when he notices how much of a tomato his friend has become. He has done enough about the subject of love for someone who promised he would put aside his feelings. He’s about to ask him if he would like to go for a swim, when he catches the sight of John at the corner of his eye. It looks like he’s asleep. A mischievous smile forms on his face.

“Watch me.” He says to Freddie, and gets up from the edge of the pool.

So Freddie watches him walk towards the small wooden cabin near the pool, enter it, and come back with a bucket in one hand a few seconds later. While he fills it slowly but surely, the singer thinks about asking him nicely to stop, but the thought quickly leaves his mind. Roger gets close to John, who still hasn’t moved a finger, and drops the bucket filled to the top in one go, grinning like an idiot. The bassist lets out a surprised cry, and Freddie bursts out laughing.

“…Oh fuck you Roger!” He gets up with a murderous look in his eyes as soon as he sees the drummer.  
He starts laughing as well. “S-Sorry, I couldn’t-AGH!” He lets out a yelp as John grabs him tight. “Let go of me!”

He tries fighting off, but John’s arms, despite being thin, are strong and holding him firmly. He realises he is powerless as the bassist is dragging him towards the edge of the pool.

“Freeed!” He calls for help.  
The singer doesn’t move from his spot, still laughing. “S-Sorry Rog. ‘Cant say you didn’t ask for it.”

His face fells. He’s halfway into screaming how unfair this is, when John finally throws him in the water, a satisfied grin on his face, shutting him up effectively. Freddie thinks, with an amused smile, that some things will never change.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little moment of break for Freddie. Not for Roger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) After maaaany hours spent on this chapter, finally, it's done. 
> 
> 2) Have you experienced inspiration hitting you at late hours, like around midnight, so you write because you really want to finish the chapter, and when you finally end it, you realise it's half past three in the morning?

“Charlotte, my baby!”

The grey cat, lying on a small pile of old but warm covers inside the barn where he met her the first time, looks up and meets his brown eyes, blinking slowly. Freddie is glad he’s been able to find her quickly, as opposed to the previous evenings where he had to turn the whole farm inside down to find her. Cats have their own lives and finding them can be difficult. 

He slowly sits down next to her, starts scratching her under the jaw. A simple gesture like this reminds him how much he misses Tom and Jerry. The grey cat can’t replace them of course, but her presence here is very comforting, since his babies are so far away from him. He loves cats so much. He’ll never, never be tired of petting them, feeling their soft fur under his fingers and hearing their pleasant and soothing purring…

Several minutes pass, and Freddie hasn’t moved from his spot, continuing to pet Charlotte, while the sun was gradually going down, accompanied by the slow birth of warm colours at the horizon. He eventually looks up from the cat, and notices how beautiful the sky looks, with all these pink clouds scattered on the blue. From his spot, he could also see the green fields stretching far away. The wind is low, and aside from a few animal noises, everything seems so peaceful. 

Absorbed by his appreciation of the setting, Freddie absent-mindedly stops petting Charlotte. Obviously, she doesn’t appreciate the sudden lack of caresses, and hops onto his thighs to get his attention.

“Hey-Darling, be more careful, I like these pants!”

A few paws moves, and the grey cat had now comfortably settled on the cat lover’s legs. She looks at him, her golden eyes seeming to order “Pet me human”, before she closes them and starts purring again. Freddie happily obliges, and continues scratching the side of her face.

“…Your life must be so easy, huh.” He lets out loud after a moment.

Eating, finding a comfortable spot, sleeping for most of the day, getting lots of caresses. Sometimes the cat lover wishes he could be one of them. His life would be so simple. He wouldn’t have to think about- 

_‘“Being with you makes me happy.”’_

His cheeks take a nice red colour. It’s not so much the last kiss he shared with Roger he can’t stop thinking about, it’s all the heartfelt words he told him, all the heartfelt compliments delivered with his damn pretty smile and his damn shining pretty blue eyes.

A long sigh escapes his lips. All of this has way too much effect on him. But it means so much, hearing the slightest positive thing about himself. The majority of people only hear about the confident Freddie Mercury, the one who owns the stage and the public like no one. The one whose voice and presence on stage are unique. When performing on a stage, the first note to sing is the hardest part. After that, he would grow wings and for a magic moment, he would seem untouchable, unstoppable.

But outside the stage, his aura of seemingly unwavering confidence fades, and his shyness reappears, as his doubts about himself, his fear of failing and disappointing others. Fortunately, he knew he could count on his dear bandmates to help him. He could never tell them how thankful he was for having them as friends, as a family. When he felt a bit down, they always had some supportive words for him.

_‘”You are a wonderful and a beautiful person, Freddie.”’_

Biting the inside of his cheek doesn’t prevent his face from going redder than a tomato. And there’s this strange and warm something he’s feeling inside…

He shakes his head, as if it could help him stop feeling things. Ah, Roger and his fucking soft words. He should really learn to handle sincere compliments, instead of turning into a blushing mess each time it happens. At least no one was here to witness how embarrassed he was. 

“Oh there you are, finally!” A familiar voice tells.

Lost in his thoughts, Freddie hadn’t heard Roger coming in his direction. He looks up and notices his friend leaning on the barn’s wall, a few meters away from him. He urges his mind to stop focusing on what he said earlier today, and shows a smile he hopes to be natural. The blonde frowns for a second, wondering why he was blushing like that, before his blue eyes lower to the grey mass on his thighs. Now that he thinks about it, Freddie did talk about wanting to find “his baby” named Charlotte, if his memories are correct. 

“Everything’s fine, Fred? You look a bit…” He gestures at his face. 

“Oh no, don’t worry.” He assures, hoping he would stop blushing soon. “I should be the one asking. I think you caught some nasty sunburns, dear.”

He winces, thinking about the marks on his shoulders and his back. “No shit, I feel like a lobster.”

Freddie snorts. “Anyway, I don’t think you’ve met Charlotte yet. She’s nice and lovely.” He passes his hand through her soft fur. “…I’m thinking about adopting her.” He confesses with sparkling eyes. 

An amused smile appears on his face. “Fred, you say that about every cat you met.”

But the cat lover doesn’t respond, too focused on petting the feline. Roger watches him in silence, taking a moment to admire him. He looks so peaceful sitting there, his hands scratching Charlotte’s head, he doesn’t dare moving a toe and risk disturbing that precious moment. Too bad he doesn’t have a camera at hand, because he would have loved to capture Freddie, his soft look and his serene smile. No doubt he would have treasured the photo. 

Eventually, Freddie’s eyes go up and meet his own. He tries not to feel embarrassed, but he still feels like he shouldn’t have been staring.

“Come on Rog, you can pet her too.” He assures with a smile. “I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Slowly, Roger walks towards his friend, and crouches next to him, in front of the grey mass of fur. Charlotte slightly opens her eyes, and he starts scratching her under the jaw. Her head shifting in his direction, followed by a louder sound of purring, confirms she appreciated the gesture. Two people to pet her, and she had found a nice and warm spot. Some cats really have an easy life.

“She’s so soft.” He whispers with a delighted smile.

For a short time, everything is fine. Precisely until his fingers run across Freddie’s, in the middle of Charlotte’s back. He freezes momentarily. People accidentally touching hands at the same time is the kind of thing which is supposed to happen in romantic films, rather than the real life. Or maybe he just didn’t have luck. Maybe it was bound to happen, with two people caressing a cat at the same time.

Cheeks getting red, Roger’s hand quickly curls up. He gets up and stares at the dusty ground, not daring to look at his friend. 

“…Uh, I-Dinner’s ready.” He mutters. “…Brian made pasta.”

Behind him, he hears Freddie telling Charlotte petting time was over, and soon enough, she passes through his legs, on her way to find another warm spot to rest on.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” The cat lover asks, dusting his pants. 

“…Uh-Yeah, I suppose.” He answers, his back still turned, although Charlotte was the last thing on his mind right now.

Their fingers brushing makes him think about the events of this afternoon. The kiss, in particular. He feels his cheeks warming up. A part of him tells he should be past the age of blushing over a small kiss and hands touching, but… screw it. He is in love, and if Freddie makes him feel like being a smitten teen all over again, well that’s just the way it is.

That being said, now wasn’t exactly the best time to think about all of this. 

“…Uh, we should hurry.” He adds, doing his best to push his feelings back into a corner of his head. “I’m really hungry. So hungry, I can practically hear the spaghetti calling me.” 

Freddie snorts. “Does it have a more pleasant voice than green beans?” 

“Oh, infinitely more pleasant.” He assures, as they start walking back to the house. 

 

-*-

 

The dinner passes in a relaxed atmosphere. They did some good progress on the album this week – though they’re still behind schedule, no doubt EMI wouldn’t miss “politely” reminding them when they would come back to London – and the pasta was delicious. Although Brian does comments with a “I warned you about this” tone on his sunburns, and John, as if throwing him into the water earlier wasn’t enough, makes some not-so-subtle allusions about how he got these sunburns, a smug grin on his face, which Roger finds to be quite annoying. At least, it had made his victory over the both of them at Scrabble, later on the evening, even more enjoyable. He loves shutting people up.

Things weren’t over after that though. Freddie still wanted his revenge on the guitarist, and so they had went through another round. Unfortunately, he had lost again. Since he was very determined to beat him and Brian didn’t mind giving him another chance to win tonight, the four of them then played for a few other rounds, until finally, Freddie wins the game. He even brags about his final score, which goes over Brian’s one by far, but the guitarist isn’t a bad loser. He is even honestly relieved his friend won, because he feels like otherwise, he would have asked to continue playing until victory, and the effects of fatigue were starting to take their toll on them. After all, it was close to midnight already. 

“Congratulations, Freddie, I lost.” He puts back the letters in the small bag, and lets out a yawn in the process. He feels like he could fall asleep on the table. 

The singer’s smile is so bright it could illuminate the room. “Another round?” He asks, despite his eyes starting to sting.

Brian shakes his head. “No thanks, the only thing I want right now is to sleep.” 

“Same for me.” John says, rubbing his eyes. 

Freddie then turns to Roger, but he declines as well, looking equally as tired. Once the game is put away in its designated piece of furniture, Brian and John wish a good night to the rest of the band, and leave the dining room, eager to find the comfort of their bed. Taking a shower earlier tonight had been a good idea. Roger, who hadn’t taken a shower yet, contemplates skipping it and going straight to his room. He hadn’t washed his hair in days, but he could always take a shower in the morning. 

Instead of going up to his room though, he collapses on the large couch, feeling himself sinking a bit. A part of him thinks that he should get up and at least changes his clothes, a bit dirty, and sleeping in tight jeans sounds uncomfortable, but he doesn’t have enough motivation or energy left to move from the couch. Even blinking makes him feel like his eyelids weight a ton. 

“You wanna take a shower Rog?” He hears Freddie asks from behind the couch. 

“Nah, ‘m too tired. ‘Just wanna sleep.” It’s a pity humans could not communicate by telepathy, because using his mouth to talk had seemed like an incredibly hard task. 

“Well, good night then. I’ll be taking one, if you ever need me or anything.” The voice of his friend announces, followed by the sound of footsteps disappearing in the direction of bathroom.

He wishes him a good night too, before yawning loudly. His room wasn’t that far away, but he still had to get up, and use his legs to walk to the stairs, and use even more energy to walk up the stairs, and all of this sounded like too much effort. Why not sleep on the couch instead?

He lazily shakes his feet until his slippers fall off, and places the cushions against one of the armrests. Once he’s satisfied with the arrangement, he lays down on his back, not even bothering with taking a cover to get more warmth. Closing his eyes feel very pleasant, and it doesn’t take much time before he starts drifting towards sleep. 

 

-*-

 

Huh, strange. He was sitting at the edge of the swimming pool, but he couldn’t really feel the stone under his skin, neither could he really feel the sun shining. He knew John was supposed to be on the opposite side, but he wasn’t even sure he was still there. It seemed like the world stopped existing outside the pool. As if it was just Freddie and him, inside their little bubble. Not that he was caring about anything else than the singer at this moment.

He had never seemed so handsome. Neither his mouth had seemed so inviting. 

His heart was beating fast, his breath was getting short. He wanted another kiss. Just one more time, he wanted to feel his soft lips against his own. His eyes were fixed on his face, constantly glancing to his lips, waiting for an opportunity, a movement, anything to kiss him. In a few minutes, in a few seconds if he was lucky, Freddie would move towards him and-

_Smooch._

His lips were now on his mouth. 

The sensation is still very pleasant, but he needs more contact. His fingers make their way towards Freddie’s hand, only stopping once he feels his soft and warm skin. It feels so real. 

Then again, the realisation of some events being part of a dream often comes only after waking up.

Shivers suddenly go down his spine. He feels his friend’s hand move under his own, then turn over. The edge of his fingers gently grab his hand, and their palms lock into each other like a puzzle. Two pieces matching perfectly.

“You don’t want to stop there, do you?”

Roger’s heart skips a beat. He hears a chuckle near his ear, and realises it was Freddie talking. He opens his eyes, only to shut them immediately, as the singer kisses him back. His tongue easily slides between his lips, and the drummer’s brain stops working. He moans as Freddie explores the inside of his mouth, and the grip on his hand tighten. It feels good, so good. He can’t tell for how long the sloppy and passionate kiss continues, but when Freddie parts away from him, he whines. He still can breath, so the kiss obviously has been too short. He practically launches himself on his lips, but the singer stops him by placing fingers against his mouth. 

He laughs again, and it makes his heart melt. “Eager much, darling?”

“I want to fuck you.” Roger blurts in a raspy voice.

He hadn’t really thought before talking, but he didn’t want to take it back. It was the truth, after all.

Freddie blinks a few times, an unreadable expression on his face. Time seems to stop for a moment. He then takes his fingers off his mouth, his eyes still fixed on him, as if he was trying either to read his thoughts, or to decipher something, leaving the blonde a bit lost. He had been expecting a notable reaction. A cheeky comeback, a few falsely surprised words, anything but that. It wasn’t like Freddie, to remain this neutral over such a simple but blunt statement.

Eventually, a slight frown appears on his face and he leans slightly closer. “You were eyeing me, earlier.” 

It feels definitely like a statement, rather than a question. His tone is serious, and Roger believes he is reproaching him with that. He’s halfway into saying he wasn’t supposed to know when he realises it is a poor justification. Quickly, he thinks about something to say to explain himself.

“I’m not sorry. You were so hot. And my thoughts were pure.” 

Freddie blinks a few times again, visibly surprised by his statement. He then raises a brow. “Were your thoughts really pure, darling?”

“Y-Yeah! I was just thinking about touching your chest.” Maybe not the purest of thoughts, but at least not X-rated.

He pursues his lips, seemingly not convinced. “…Really?”

Roger feels like he can’t blame him for thinking he’s not truthful, but his doubts start to annoy him nonetheless. “Of course “really”! I wasn’t imagining my hand on your dick like Deaky implied!” 

Freddie’s eyes are still fixed on him, but his expression softens eventually, after a moment of reflection. Roger smiles, thinking that finally, he had decided to believe him.

He then gets even closer to him, so close, the blonde can feel his breath against his skin. His free hand gently lays on his face, thumb caressing his lips. The desire showing in his dark brown eyes, in his pretty smile, is unmistakable, and Roger realises his heart is being boosted by anticipation. He was going to kiss him, to touch him, to- 

“Please.” He asks in a breath, embarrassed to sound a bit desperate.

Freddie’s cheeky grin grows. His thumb joins the side of his mouth, and he lightly squeezes his cheeks. “Please what, darling?”

He frowns. “Stop teasing me and do something.”

The singer lets go of his face, and place his hand on Roger’s collarbone. The contact of his fingers is pleasantly warm on his skin. Slowly, his hand slides down his smooth chest, brushing a nipple, and stops at the waistband of his swimming trunks. They are still making eye contact, and he notices the blonde’s breathing is getting stronger. Smirking, he grabs the waistband between his thumb and index, stretches the material a bit, then lets it flap against his belly. The sound that comes out of the blonde’s pretty mouth doesn’t only result from the light pain.

“I didn’t know you were into that.” Freddie whispers, his hand lingering on his waist.

“Fuck you. I asked you to stop teasing me.” Roger replies, blushing harder already. 

“Ah, yes, poor little Roggie haven’t had sex since weeks. He desperately wants advanced physical contact.” His hand leaves the blonde’s waist to rest on the inside of his thigh, purposefully close to his penis, without touching it. “But only from Freddie…” He adds seductively in his ear, making him shiver.

All of this is true, but it isn’t making the obvious teasing more bearable. “S-Stop fucking around and do something.” 

The singer places a quick peck on the side of his cheek, before crossing looks with his friend. Roger, getting impatient, decides to initiate things himself. He places his free hand behind his head, taking a second to appreciate the softness of his long black hair before leaning forwards and finally kissing him again. This time, he has every intention of keeping his tongue inside Freddie’s mouth until he’s out of breath. Quickly enough, he notices his friend seems to let himself be carried along the kiss, letting him be in control of the moment. Tough he’s really enjoying this, the passionate kiss doesn’t satisfy him entirely. He needs to feel more of him, and his hand leaves the silky dark hair to go caress his chest. It definitely feels different from a girl’s, being flat and hairy, but it’s not unpleasant. Far from it, actually. His hand roams over his skin, ultimately determined to explore all over his body, causing a few delightful moans when traveling over more sensitive parts.

The lack of any recent activity of that sort with anyone was certainly increasing his arousal, but damn, it felt good. For someone who used to love having a blast with girls, they had never seen so far away, and even so non-desirable right now. He didn’t know how he could do this with anyone but his friend in the future. 

_‘No way I’m going back to girls. Brian can have them. I only need Freddie.’_

His tongue is swirling around the singer’s for the umpteenth time, when he feels a hand against his chest, pushing him away gently but surely, breaking off the kiss. He blinks several times, realising it was over. The end of the smooch brings some disappointment, which disappears immediately as he‘s greeted with the view before him. A smug grin forms on his redden lips. He was the one who made Freddie blush like this, who kissed him until his lips were red and a bit swollen, who made him moan under his touch. And certainly not Mary, a part of him teased.

Their look cross again, as hot, loud breaths escape their mouths. “’Bet, ah, not many people have left you breathless, huh?” 

“’Cant, ah, ‘cant deny it, darling.” Freddie smiles a bit, and takes a few seconds to catch his breath. “You’re such a good kisser. Some chicks are going to miss you.”

“Well I won’t miss them.” He assures, laying his hand on his burning cheek. “And you?”

“…What do you mean, me?”

“Oh, you know. Are you going to miss Mary?” He asks, hoping he would say no.

His friend’s smile disappears, seemingly taken aback by his question. An uncomfortable silence follows. Before his reaction, the blonde looses his smile. He waits for his answer, heart tightening.

“It’s not that simple, Rog.” He admits eventually. “It’s not simple at all.”

“No, it’s simple.” Roger assures, trying to stay calm. “I love you, and I know you like men. We can be-”

“You THINK that. What do you really know?” His harsh tone stops him dead in his tracks. “You realised you weren’t exactly straight, but no real big deal for you.” His dark eyes are cold, piercing. “Freddie doesn’t have your situation. Have you only thought about what he’s going through?” 

His eyes open, and he is greeted by darkness.

He blinks rapidly. The living room is practically pitch black, with only some faint light coming from behind the shutters. His loud breathing is very distinct in the quasi silence of the room, only disturbed by some small distant noises he can’t identify and the regular tick-tock of the clock. He realises someone thoughtful had laid a warm cover on him – which he is thankful for, because the room temperature wasn’t that high right now. Most probably Freddie. _Freddie._

His heart sinks. It had only been a dream. 

It had felt so real. Dreams always seem real.

The singer he interacted with in his dream wasn’t the singer in flesh. But the last sentences he had heard are heavy with a reality he is aware of. 

Things aren’t that easy. 

Things aren’t easy at all.

Roger closes his eyes, hoping to fall back asleep quickly. But he knows his chances are pretty low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't tried writing "erotic" things since years. Who knew it could be such a challenge? Tell me what you think about the dream scene. I feel like there's still a long road uphead before I can write a full sex scene.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finally. Who knew writing and polishing could take so much time ?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger is still smitten. But he knows things aren't simple, especially not for Freddie.

The distant sound of windows and shutters being opened comes to his ears, and daylight suddenly illuminate the room, making him frown and try to hide away from it. Is it the morning already? The night has really been too short. He hears a surprised “Oh”, and a few seconds later, he feels a finger poking his cheek.

“Good morning Rog.” He immediately recognises John’s voice, calm but playful.

“Stop.” He grumbles, turning his head in the other direction so he can stop bothering him.

Unfortunately for him, the bassist had decided it was time to get up. He pulls the warm cover away from the blonde’s grip, making him shiver and curl up a bit. He then notices he was still in his jeans. Not the most comfortable clothes to spend a night in.

“…Did you sleep well?” He asks, expecting a negative answer.

Roger stay still for a few seconds, then slowly raises from the couch and sits up. He stares at his friend, his disciplined hair and his keen look, and wonders who John sacrificed to look this fresh in the morning. Next to him, with his eyes half-closed and his disheveled hair, he must look like a zombie. 

“…No.” He answers in a whisper. “And… not only because of my threads.”

John raises a brow. The sensation of déjà-vu from last week comes back to his mind. He remembers pretty well his discussion with Freddie, who hadn’t slept well either. Speaking of the singer… he had a feeling he might have something to do with his bad night. They had seem fine during the day, so maybe something happened after he went to sleep. Although he wouldn’t want to be intrusive, he is a bit curious about their situation. And maybe talking about it would help Roger. 

He sits besides his friend. “Did something… particular happened with Freddie yesterday?”

Roger pinches his lips. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “…I had a dream. You know, yesterday, when we were at the pool, when you were resting, I… kissed him. It didn’t go further. But tonight, I had a dream where things… continued after that.” A cheeky smile appears on John’s face, and he feels like he has to be more precise. “We just made out. Nothing more.”

“Hm. And then?”

Roger clearly remembers the harsh words of Freddie. Of course, this Freddie has been more of a part of his subconscious talking than the one in the flesh, but it made him confront a few things he didn’t want to think about. He has been direct in his dream, but he couldn’t just say to the real Freddie “I love you, I know you like men, we can be together”, or imply to drop Mary in the near future. As for assuring things are simple, he knows it couldn’t be further away from the truth. 

“Roger?” John asks, noticing he seems to be lost in his thoughts.

Oh no, things aren’t simple, especially not for his friend. That day where he huddled up in his arms, angry at himself, the blonde hadn’t known what had been affecting him. Despite what Freddie assured, he was almost certain it had something to do with him. Or to be more precise, his love confession. And now, after thinking about it, he had an idea about why declaring his feelings may have affected him this way. 

He glances at John, who is still attentive and waiting for him to continue. “…The dream’s not that important.” He feels a lump forming in his throat. “… I think…” 

He thinks Freddie is attracted to men. And he is struggling about getting on terms with his sexuality.

He also thinks this is something very personal, something he most probably never told to anyone. Sure, he has no doubts John can be trusted with secrets, but… maybe it isn’t up to him to announce the news. It wouldn’t feel right.

A thought then crosses his mind. Freddie can be vocal about important and insignificant matters, but he tends to hide his own struggles from everyone. Still, he easily opens to the youngest in the band. Maybe he knew something he didn’t.

“…Did Freddie talk to you about… things? I mean, things that would trouble him…” He fixes John, hoping for a positive answer.

“…Well, one day, last week, I noticed he had been up before me. I asked him if everything was alright, and he said he didn’t sleep well. It was the morning after your confession, I believe.” He adds, and Roger’s eyes open a bit wider. “But I didn’t know about it, at the time.”

John watches his friend look away, loosing himself in his thoughts again. He’s pretty sure Freddie is the reason why he hadn’t slept well, but the blonde doesn’t seem induced to tell what really happened. Was there something about the singer he had hoped to hear from him?

“When I asked why he didn’t sleep well, he told me he had a lot on his mind.” He continues, and Roger’s eyes shift on him again. Might as well tell him everything. “…We didn’t talk about you though. From what I got, the marriage with Mary and the idea of children worried him. So I tried to reassure him about it. Then we went to wake up Brian.”

The silence comes back in the living room, only disturbed by the regular tick-tock of the clock. The blonde stays silent, his mouth twisting on one side. It does coroborates his idea. But it means Freddie probably doesn’t want to break up with Mary yet. He may not even want to think about it. And obviously, this means bad news for him and his hopes of getting somewhere with him in the future. 

_‘…Maybe I should talk to him. I could…’_ Halfway through his thought, he starts biting the inside of his lip. _‘Yeah sure, talk Roger, but how the hell are you going to bring on the subject…’_

Besides, he knows he doesn’t have much time left to act. Wednesday, they are going back to London. Freddie will go back to Mary, and he fears talking with him about it will become nearly impossible. He has to do something while she isn’t around. The sooner, the better.

John calls his name, but he doesn’t respond. It’s only when he lays his hand on his shoulder that the blonde gets pulled out of his reflexion. He turns towards him, and meets his soft, gray eyes.

“…Are you okay, Rog?” He asks, a trace of worry in his voice.

After a few seconds, he answers with a shrug. “…It’s complicated.” He adds, and his eyes wander around the room, until they stop on the clock on the sideboard. “…Hey, it’s past 8 already. I think it’s time to make breakfast.” He declares while getting up.

John watches him stretch his arms, and understands he wants to drop the subject. Plus he was right, it was time to make breakfast. The album was nowhere near finished, they still had a lot of hard work waiting for them, and the sooner their meal would be eaten, the better. 

As Roger is opening the shutters in the kitchen, bringing some much needed natural light into the room, the bassist decides it would be better to send him dragging their two others bandmates out of bed, rather than requisition his help here. Brian and Freddie certainly wouldn’t wake up, or at least wake up and come downstairs by themselves, with their small appetite.

He takes the kettle in hand, and places it under the tap. “Hey, how ‘bout you go wake up Fred and Brian?” He asks, as the water starts filling the container.

Roger frowns as he closes the window. “Why me?”

“Well, can you make breakfast better than me?” John asks, wearing a small but smug smile.

Of course, he can’t. But instead of admitting his lack of skills and saying “no”, the drummer simply turns around and leaves the kitchen. He walks through the silent house, hoping Brian wouldn’t get grumpy, like he usually was on waking. Though he seems less grumpy when it’s Freddie who wakes him up. Then again, being greeted by the sight of Freddie in the morning would make anyone less- ugh, those damn stairs. He thought he would be used to the awfully loud creaking of the steps, but no, it was still awfully too loud. At least one thing wouldn’t miss this when they would be back in London.

Once he’s upstairs, he wastes no time knocking on Brian’s door and waiting for him to open. He quickly enters the room and switches the light on, revealing a wild mass of brown curls which is in sharp contrast with the thick and ugly light pink cover. He closes the door, not wanting noise to come to the singer’s room, and get closer to the bed.

“Get up Bri, it’s breakfast time.” He calls in a clear voice, causing a muffled groan.

The guitarist slowly turns over, not ready to leave the bed yet. He blinks before the light as soon as he opens his eyes, and pulls the cover over his face. “Turn that off, please…”

He does so, and goes to open the shutters. “C’mon, sleepyhead. We have tons of work to do.”

Brian grumbles something untelligible, and begrudgingly pulls away the cover from his body. Sitting only feels like one step away from comfort. “Doesn’t mean you have to wake me up this way.”

He pulls away the curtains. “Hey, it’s just my way of waking people up. I can’t help it if you can’t handle it Bri.”

From behind, he can’t see his face, but he’s certain his friend was hiding a smile. Most of the time, the blonde was great, and sometimes, he was greatly annoying. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, sure. You’ll make me believe you treat Freddie this way?”

The shutters come back against the outside wall, and Roger freezes. He feels his cheeks getting way too warm, and oh, the pebbles surrounding the house seem really interesting now.

Brian had caught him by surprise. He hadn’t expected this kind of comeback, not from him. It sounded more like John, who had this tone in his voice when he would tell a witty comeback because he knew a lot. But Brian doesn’t know about his feelings for the singer. Right? He had always been careful about trying not giving away any signs. Plus given the fact he didn’t refute what his friend said last week about him wanting a stable relationship, he may think Roger has a specific _girl_ in mind.

…Or he may have some doubts, and brought Freddie’s name to see if he had a certain reaction that would confirm them. And being silent about the fact he certainly wouldn’t cruelly drag him out of sleep by calling him loudly and immediately switching the lights on could be one. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. A part of his mind tells him it isn’t like Brian to act this way, but… 

He breaths in and out. “Well of course not. Freddie is special.” He assures, as if it meant everything. “And he’s never grumpy in the morning.” He adds, hoping his cheeks would take back their original colour soon. “And, he always has a smile for everyone.”

Brian slowly leaves the bed, before stretching extensively. “Yeah, and that’s why I prefer when you’re not the one waking me up. A warm smile is much better than your inconsiderate manners.”

Roger doesn’t respond, but rolls his eyes. He decides to lean back from the window before Brian can ask him what he was looking at extensively. His cheeks are still red, even though he feels calmer, so he quickly leaves the room, avoiding his friend’s look.

Slowly, he pushes the door to Freddie’s room, opening enough to let in an important portion of light. Because of the ceiling light’s stance outside, only a small part of the room ends up being illuminated, but at least it allows the blonde to see more clearly. He discerns the contours of the large bed, the white thick cover, and most importantly, a familiar figure, whose black and long hair are spreaded over a large pillow. Carefully, he takes a small step, then another, trying his best not to make the parquet floor creak under his slippers, and it takes no time before he finds himself in front of the singer. In the quietness of the room, he realises how he could hear his heart beating a bit too fast. In this kind of situation, where you try to be silent but every noise you make seems exaggeratedly amplified, even breathing sounds too loud. 

He kneels in front the bed so he can take a better look at Freddie. In the dim light, he can’t notice every beautiful detail of his beautiful face, but seeing such a peaceful expression on his face makes him feel better. He watches his chest slowly raise and fall as he breathes, and the sound is so low he can barely hear it. His left hand resting atop the cover, sporting iconic and elegant black nail varnish, catches his attention for a few seconds. His blue eyes then drift back on his face, and he unconsciously moves closer. Freddie shaves regularly, but in the moments where their minds are occupied with important matters, and they have little care to give about looking impeccable, he doesn’t take the effort. Consequently, Roger is not used to see him with a stubble, but it doesn’t look bad. It even looks quite good on him. He wonders how caressing his chin would feel. 

The first thing he notices is that it scratches a bit, but it’s not unpleasant. 

The second thing he notices is a pair of brown eyes, blinking, then staring at him.

“…Roger?”

His hand suddenly feels much heavier. But it was too late to pretend he wasn’t caressing his face. 

“…Hi Fred.” He blurts out, showing an unsure smile. “…Time to wake up. Deaky made breakfast.”

Freddie doesn’t answer, simply continuing to look at him, blinking occasionally. He’s not moving, not saying anything, and it starts to make Roger uneasy. Unconsciously, his thumb brush against his soft lips, and the thought of kissing him rushes in. Damn, he really wants to. But he knows it wouldn’t be right. He was already pushing his boundaries of not acting on his feelings far away into the boyfriend territory, and he is lucky Freddie hasn’t made anything yet to stop him. 

_‘…Maybe he likes it. Maybe he wants it. Maybe he likes you-’_

He quickly shakes his head, occasioning a questioning look from the singer. There’s no denying he wishes it strongly, but now is not the time to think about this. They have a breakfast to attend to, even though personally, the meal is the last thing on his mind. He’d rather stay here and continue spending a privileged moment with Freddie. Smiling and caressing his face may not seem like much, but waking up someone with a soft voice and a few affectionate gestures is not something he did a lot during the last years. And now, doing it for someone feels refreshing, pleasant. 

_‘I wish I could do it more often.’_

“…Do what?” Freddie asks, raising a brow.

After a second and some blinking, Roger realises he said it out loud. He doesn’t regret it though.

“…I wish I could wake you up more often.” He repeats, louder this time, while continuing to look into his dark eyes. “It’s really nice.”

He feels his friend’s cheek getting warmer. …Does it mean he likes it? He agrees with it?

Before any of them can say something else, Roger hears his stomach grumble. A few seconds of silence follow, and an amused smile appears on Freddie’s face. He gently takes his hand off his face, and the contact of his delicate fingers makes him realise how soft his skin is, compared to his hand’s rougher one. What wouldn’t he give to be able to hold his hand and kiss it.

“Anyway, it looks like you’re hungry. And we made Bri and Deaky wait enough, don’t you think dear?”

“…Yeah, of course.” He admits, missing the contact of his hand already. 

He gets up, and they finally leave the room, not bothering to open the window this time. He feels like he just spent an hour in Freddie’s room, but in reality it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, otherwise Brian or John would have come to see what was taking them so long. The creaking of the stairs is twice more awful, causing the singer to complain and declare his future house will only have elegant, sophisticated and of course silent marble stairs. As they walk through the house, Roger continues listening to his friend listing every feature he wanted next with a smile. Lots of space, a large garden with a pond and tons of colourful flowers… 

“And of course, individual rooms for my babies.” He adds, as they enter the kitchen. 

Freddie then leaves his side to greet Brian, who was sitting at the table, his cup of tea in hand, then John, who was making fried eggs and bacon. The delicious smell and his growing hunger quickly brings the blonde to hops on the chair next to the guitarist, hoping the plate in front of him would be soon filled with food. Talking with Freddie had been enjoyable, but it hadn’t feed him.

“What took you so long?” Brian asks, curious.

He hesitates answering “we shagged” for a second, but decides to drop the humour. “We talked.”

Brian doesn’t push the question further, simply responding with a pensive “hmm” before taking a bite of his buttered toast. He supposes he still has to wait a bit for his eggs, so he gets up and takes the orange juice from the fridge. He glances at Freddie, sitting on the opposite side of the table. He is staring at the tea box intensly, lips pursued, probably trying to decide which flavor to choose. The light coming from outside illuminates his long and silky black hair, and damn, his soft, dark brown eyes really are the most beautiful eyes in the world. 

_‘You’re staring, Roger.’_ A part of him mind notes, so he snaps out of the singer’s involuntary hypnosis and sits back at the table.

“Hey Rog, what do you think I should take?” Freddie asks, showing him the tea box. “I can’t decide.”

He eyes the content of the box for a few seconds. There’s dozens of colorful bags, and who knows how many flavors of which he doesn’t know the taste. Eventually, he points a red bag. “This one?”

“Twinings Strawberry. Eh, a classic one, but always appreciable.” Freddie takes the bag and puts it his cup. “Thanks for helping me darling.”

“I didn’t do much.” He assures, admiring his friend’s smile.

After a few minutes, John has finished cooking eggs for everyone, and bacon for who wants some. As soon as the delicious looking food hits his plate, Roger grabs the cutlery and takes a generous bite of the eggs. He decides to add one, then two slices of bacon, and savours it as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He’s too busy eating to notice Brian’s surprised face. How could he gobble it so fast? 

“So, what should we work on today?” John asks, looking at Freddie for an answer.

“…We don’t have much time left here.” He comments, after taking a sip of his tea. “And Bohemian Rhapsody is nowhere near finished. We should focus on it.”

“…Sounds good to me.” Brian says, before finishing his toast. “It’s your most important song.”

Freddie looks at him with a frown. “Dear, it’s our most important song. Just because I wrote the lyrics and most of the musical accompaniment doesn’t mean you didn’t help creating it. Remember, you have a wonderful guitar solo.”

He then looks at John and Roger, before assuring it with a heartfelt smile that it was the same for them too. Once their masterpiece would be finished and polished, the four of them could be proud parents. As to know if the song and _A Night At The Opera_ would be not only successful, but successful enough to pull them out of debt, they only could hope. Hope and work at two hundred percent to make the dream come true. They are Queen, and Queen doesn’t disappoint anyone – maybe except certain bitter narrow-minded journalists. Not that their opinions mattered to them anyway.

“So, ready to make our best album yet, darlings?” Freddie asks, his brown eyes sparkling.

“THE best album yet, you mean.” Roger corrects, before finally finishing what is in his plate. “And I don’t say that only because my song’s on it.”

Now that every plate is empty, Brian can start doing the dishes. The sink is divided in two parts, useful for washing then rinsing. Roger watches him scrub a plate, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to do it. 

“By the way, what took you so long up there?” John asks, though he has his own idea in mind.

This time, the blonde doesn’t feel like telling any detail. “…None of your business.” 

“Oh, so you didn’t just talk.” The bassist comments, remembering what he has told before. 

“Why? How much time passed before he got downstairs?” The singer asks, curious.

“Around a few minutes, I’d say.” He makes a gesture with his hand, then leans closer to Roger, wearing his recognisable smug grin foreshadowing a cheeky remark. “Enough time to have a quickie.”

Roger’s mind, probably helped by an unsatisfied libido, immediately associate the word with Freddie, and his eyes dart towards the yellowing tablecloth. Very ugly and unattractive, compared to the X-rated picture his brain had created. He hears Freddie’s voice talking to John, and he doesn’t really get what he says, because he can’t get the picture out of his head, and if his voice invite itself into his thought, he’s going to start imagining screams and moans and- 

He should take a breath elsewhere. Some fresh air, alone. Away from Freddie. Fortunately, the house’s entrance is close, and quickly enough, he finds himself outside. A small breeze is blowing, and the sky is scattered with clear, small clouds. He closes his eyes, breathes in, then out, several times. That’s better. Now, if only his mind could stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts… 

He hears the door open, and feels a hand on his shoulder. “Rog, whatever Deaky said, don't... I'm sure he didn't mean it.”

Oh no, Freddie and his soft voice. “It's not..." He sighs. "He didn't say anything mean-spirited, I assure you. It's just... I told him about my feelings for you last week, and it's not the first time he made a... cheeky remark. Y'know, he can be so insidious sometimes." 

The silence comes back between them, lasting long enough for Roger to wonder why his friend doesn't say anything. Delicate fingers leave his shoulder, but the silence continues. He opens his eyes again, and faces Freddie, holding his arm, eyes looking away. He seems in deep thoughts.

"...It's a good thing you talked to him." He says eventually. "I... I imagine it musn't have been easy, to confide in someone else."

"...Well, at first I didn't intend to, but... He's comprehensive, and I figured talking with him could help." He explains. "I was certain he wouldn't mock me, or... you know. We're lucky to have him."

"It couldn't be more true." Freddie smiles a bit, but it quickly disappears, and concern takes over his face.

Unconsciously, Roger moves closer, in an intent to reassure him. "...Is there something wrong, Fred?"

He stays silent, continuing to avoid his look. It hurts, seeing him like this. The blonde gets closer again, and hesitantly lays his hands on the sides of his face. Finally, his brown eyes shift to him.

"You know, if there's anything... You can talk to me." His thumb brush his cheek. "Or Deaky, or Brian. We'd do our best to help you."

Freddie doesn't answer, but a small smile reappears on his face. Roger feels a bit better. His own smile then turns into a questioning expression, as his friend lays his delicate hands on his face. He feels his cheeks getting warmer, even more when Freddie leans closer and places a kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you dear." He whispers, showing an heartfelt smile that makes the blonde melt. "Now, how 'bout we go back to work? Surely Deaky and Brian must wait for us, again."

He takes his hands off his face, once again missing the contact of his skin. Freddie does the same, and enters back the house. Roger stares at the door for a moment.

 _'You know it's not enough. You still have to talk to him.'_ A part of him reminds.

He knows time, as opportunities, were running out. London would come back too quickly. Mary would come back too quickly.

He knows tonight, he has to act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline of events can be quite something. 
> 
> When I went to do a bit of research about Rockfield studios, I fell on this site, Queensongs.info. I discovered not only the boys only stayed a few days at these studios - and not like, around two weeks, as I thought - but also that in real life, they were already back to London at the end of August. They arrived there on the 18st, and by the 22th, they were back in London. Oops.
> 
> I realised I ended up creating a mix between Rockfield and Ridge Farm - where they did stay for several weeks, in July. It was too late to make the events follow the exact/real timeline, but I decided to make them come back in London earlier than I had scheduled initially, since I'm trying now to make the events follow more the real timeline.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enoyed it :) Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


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